Origins
by xoShortee93
Summary: Five years after the war, a young woman suspects that something strange is happening on her peaceful island. Forming an unlikely partnership with Murtagh and Thorn, they'll discover a dark evil that has been brewing in the shadows, and she'll learn a startling truth about herself that could bring the world as she knows it to its knees. [Rated T for language/violence.]
1. Chapter 1: Discovery

There was something wrong on the island of Illium.

Stretched across the beaten and weather-torn ground, Hal slowed her breathing, her ear pressed to the soft grass. She gently inhaled the comforting scent of the earth, the moss still damp from the morning dew. She kept her eyes closed, appearing to be asleep, when in actuality she did not want her sight to influence her hearing. She could feel the soft vibrations of the herd of deer almost a mile away, preparing to continue moving north as they had been for the past two days. She listened to the skies, hearing nothing unusual as the birds chirped, the wind howled, and the leaves on the trees were rustled from stasis. The air was cool this early in the day, but she could feel the high humidity beginning to press down on her skin. It would be another hot day.

Eventually Hal sat up, crossing her legs and pulling bits of grass from her hair. She discerned nothing out of the ordinary. Except…she twisted her torso around and stared at the tracks she had been following for two days, turning her already atypical hunting trip into an irritating game of cat and mouse. She needed to focus on tracking the predators that had been spotted near her village several times over the last few months. But this was too concerning to ignore.

The clearing she now occupied, like the few others she had managed to find, was riddled with signs that something large was on her island. The smaller, weaker trees had snapped as if suddenly burdened with a heavy weight. The length of that damage alone was about three houses. The deep imprints of the claws she had been following told her the size and weight of the beast was a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention, on another set of tracks, the claws dug deep into the earth, furthering Hal's belief that the reason she could not catch up to the creature was because it was flying — otherwise the sheer size of it would've made it slow on foot and much easier to keep up with. And she was hardly humble when it came to her skills. She was very good.

The island of Illium was home to very few indigenous persons, but the wildlife was abundant. It had taken Hal most of her late childhood and young adulthood to memorize and recognize the different species, their patterns, and their ways of life. She knew every sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste of the forest. She knew that whatever creature she was tracking was not native, and the sudden intrusion worried her. Was it friend or foe? Here temporarily or to stay? She saw no reason to concern her people, but the longer her questions went unanswered, the harder it would be for her to keep quiet.

Hal rose to her feet, brushing the dirt off her fitted, linen trousers with one hand and reaching into her small, brown knapsack, pulling out a leather-bound book with binding stretched from use. She flipped to the last marked page, staring at her own rushed sketch of the print from an earlier discovery. The exact same, unless there were multiple creatures the exact same weight and size. So as far as she knew, there was only one. That was something, at least.

She picked up her bow and slung it over her torso, frustration making her muscles tense. Whatever she was following, she didn't like being outsmarted. She walked over to her horse, Nani, a strong black mare that she had received as a gift when she entered womanhood at thirteen. Nani herself had not even been born yet until six weeks later. They had both grown up together.

"I'm not crazy, am I?" she asked those wide brown eyes, and Nani grunted as if to say otherwise. "What do you say then, should we carry on?"

She stomped her hooves and Hal smiled, lifting herself up and over the horse with a practiced — now natural — ease. She gripped the reigns and Nani, as if reading her owner's mind, took off, continuing south towards the coast.

As the sun rose higher, the island itself seem to become more awake with life. Hal felt like her spirits were soaring in response, the sun warming her face as the trees thinned around her. They were so close to the shore she could hear the waves and smell the salt in the air. She veered Nani left so that she was traveling parallel with the ocean as she rode towards the cliffs.

Although they traveled at a slow trot, Hal found no other signs of the strange creature as the day waned. She knew the likelihood of it still being in the general vicinity was slim, but it was still an animal. They were creatures of habit after all; it would scour the land and see if it was fitting enough before just moving on. And the tracks were no more than a day or two old. It couldn't have possibly left already. Although she certainly wouldn't complain if it had.

But how would she know? She didn't even understand what she was dealing with. Was it simply a large bird, a creature of magic, or something else entirely?

That's when she heard it. Had she not been so close to it, she might've mistaken it for the wind. But a roar filled with ferocity and pain startled her half to death, and Nani whined in fear, slowing to a stop. Birds flew maddeningly from the trees and Hal felt her heart pound in her chest. Something that loud and terrifying had to be the creature she had been tracking, but dare she be so foolish as to follow it?

She snorted.

She rode a reluctant Nani towards a cliff that overlooked the water. Once she cleared the trees, she heard the roar again, more distinctly, and grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows before ordering Nani to stay put. Then she took off for the edge just as she heard a giant splash.

When she made it to the edge, she watched the water and the skies carefully but saw nothing out of the ordinary except for several unusually large ripples that caught her attention, located just below where she was standing, branching out in wide circles. But whatever had hit the water didn't come back up. The water smoothed out except for the occasional wave and Hal frowned as several long minutes passed. Suddenly a large movement broke the surface, the ocean water rising like a spout, and Hal jumped back, landing hard on her backside as she was splashed with water, her eyes witnessing an unbelievable sight.

She had to control herself to keep from screaming, swallowing the fear and concentrating on the sight before her. For it was a ferocious fight between two creatures she had never before seen with her own eyes but lived in legend amongst her people. A Nïdhwal, a large sea serpent, known for its cruelty, dark nature, and immense size. Although it could not fly, it's long neck and quick reflexes made it a threat to creatures and large ships in the water. Its jaw was so wide that it could swallow Nani and Hal whole, probably with room to spare. There were a few in her village who claimed to have barely avoided disaster when crossing the water for trade purposes, but Hal herself doubted such tales. The creature wouldn't leave survivors.

But the other beast was far more unbelievable and far scarier and exciting. A deep red dragon had gotten itself tangled up with the Nïdhwal. The dragon's neck was trapped in the jaws of the sea serpent, and Hal soon realized what the roar of pain had been. It was struggling to fly, one wing bent horribly out of shape and a deep gash down's its back leg. It must've flown to close to the water, giving the sea monster an easy avenue for attack. It was clawing at the Nïdhwal with brute force, but Hal wasn't sure it was going to make it. Nïdhwals were known to be the only creatures capable of killing a dragon. The sea serpent tightened its iron-tight jaw, digging its teeth deeper into the dragon's neck and it roared in pain. Hal flinched sympathetically.

But Hal observed something that she couldn't quite place. At least not at first. The dragon was roaring fiercely, but not at the creature that held it captive. It was looking down at the ocean, as if something else had caught its attention. Hal dared to take a look and her eyes widened. There was a man in the water!

"Dammit all," she swore, glancing up at the dragon with understanding. Not just a wild dragon, but it had a rider. She eased back from the edge as the weight of the threat began to wash over her. She stared at beach, knowing she could ride Nani and get there in less than five minutes.

Or...

She ran to Nani and quickly pulled off her leather boots and jerkin, bow and quiver, and knapsack and tied them onto the horse with her other bags, cursing madly under her breath the entire time. She removed the small dagger she kept in her boots at all times so that she would at least still have something to protect herself with, just in case.

She gave her disapproving steed a stern order to stay. Then she took a deep breath and took off running towards the edge. Throwing herself over would have been less terrifying if she hadn't been diving into a battle between a Nïdhwal and a dragon. But they hardly paid her any attention as she hit the water. It was warm, pleasant even, as she swam back to the surface to locate the drowning stranger.

He was only a few feet away, and she made her way to him, grabbing him under his arms. Hal wondered if the man had been on the dragon when they were attacked. She had no way of knowing his injuries, but his face was deathly pale and he wasn't breathing. If he had been dragged under the water before, there was no telling how long he had been under or how far deep he had been pulled.

Hal didn't have time to wait until she made it to the beach, so she began performing mouth-to-mouth, his beard tickling her cheeks. Suddenly the dragon dove into the water with such power that it created a large wave that pelted right towards Hal. She didn't even have anything to tether the stranger to her, and they were easily separated as the wave broke right on top of them.

Hal felt herself being tossed around the water like a rag doll, and she clutched her dagger tightly so as not to lose it. She briefly lost sight of which way was up. But fortunately, the sun, although setting, was still bright enough, allowing Hal to easily swim towards the light. When she broke the surface, she gasped for air then searched desperately for the man. He had been tossed much further away and the currents were carrying him out with ease. Hal was a strong swimmer but if they got too far out, she would have to make the decision of whether to head back alone before she too was dragged out by currents.

She reached him and quickly and unashamedly searched his person until she found what felt like a belt. Something heavy was attached to his hip and she cut it from him, and the difference in his weight was astounding. She put her dagger between her teeth to free her other hand and undid the strap, struggling in the water as she tied herself to him. Again, she performed mouth-to-mouth, but they were undisturbed. But it took several moments before he coughed up water, but remained unconscious. But Hal breathed in relief. He was, for the moment, alive.

She struggled to swim for the beach, slower than before and fighting against the heavy currents and dragging the man's dead weight as water filled her nose and mouth. The Nïdhwal and the dragon broke the surface yet again, and Hal watched in horror as the dragon was tossed, its body weak and limp. She couldn't understand the tears that pricked her eyes. She had seen the brutality of nature, of life, dozens of times. And although she was always sympathetic, this hurt her more than she thought possible. Maybe it was because it felt as though the Nïdhwal was now toying with its meal, whereas most predators went in for a quicker kill. Cruelty for the sake of being cruel. It made her sick.

But she had to focus on saving the man, if she could. The Nïdhwal ducked under the water. Hal forced herself to keep swimming, peddling hard with one arm and dagger in hand, the other wrapped around the figure of the man. Something felt off and she turned around and gasped, the shock ripping any suitable scream out of her lungs. The jaws of the Nïdhwal were opened, coming right for them and they had nowhere to go, nothing to defend themselves with.

It was a human, gut reaction for her to close her eyes and turn her head, waiting for the impact that would never come. For the red dragon burst from the water with a final burst of energy and clamped its jaws around the neck of the Nïdhwal in retaliation, spreading its one, uninjured wing and lifting the creature from the water, tightening its grip. The dragon slammed the sea serpent into the cliff Hal had been standing on moments before, pulling on the neck. Hal realized in an instant what it was doing and she turned her head. The Nïdhwal screamed until its head was ripped from its body. Then the dragon dropped the creature into the water.

The waves were much larger, and Hal held her breath as they hit. They were fortunate, able to ride the strength of the water closer to the shore. And this time, Hal managed to keep hold of the man. She gained her footing, having never been so relieved to feel the earth beneath her feet, pulling them to the shore. She dropped him with exhaustion, coughing up water as she did so. Her arms were weak, her body aching. And she was shaking horribly.

Sand clung to her as she rolled herself over to her back, the water hitting the shore underneath her, just strong enough to push her further up the bank, but not strong enough to drag her back in. And Hal was grateful for that, because she found herself unable to move. Something — exhaustion, maybe fear — was keeping her frozen as she stared up at the fading blue sky, trying to calm her breathing. But she realized in horror that her resolve was crumbling, and she clamped a hand over her mouth as tears blurred her vision.

She had been unbelievably, stupidly, foolishly reckless. More so than usual anyway. And for what? Now that her mind could catch up with her actions, she realized what grave danger she had put herself in. Not just by placing herself in the water with a Nïdhwal so close, but by saving and bringing to her island a stranger. A dragon rider.

The ridiculousness of it all put her close to hysterics and she laughed uncontrollably while tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and into her hairline. Denu was going to kill her. She didn't even know what more she could do for the man — her knowledge of medicine and healing extended only as far as the type of injuries she herself had gained while hunting: minor cuts and infections, burns, fevers, and broken bones.

She sighed, her adrenaline wearing down to a minor shake in her hands. She waited for calm to claim her but found that it was far from coming. The air was quiet, and there was almost no evidence of the spectacular fight she was already struggling to believe she had witnessed.

Something hard and wet nudged the side of her head and she reached to stroke Nani's nose. The horse was becoming impatient, whining, until Hal finally rolled over and got to her knees. She surveyed her predicament. The man wasn't moving, hardly breathing if he was at all. She scanned the beach, frowning. The dragon was nowhere in sight. Her eyes searched the water, but found no sign that it was alive or dead. She swallowed nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

She scooted closer to where the man lay still, untying the belt that kept them tethered together before pressing her ear to his chest. His heartbeat was weak, but it was there and she breathed. The thought of a dragon rider made her uneasy. On Illium, there was no magic that she knew of, although they had stories and legends. And the war against the Broddring Kingdom and Galbatorix had left the island, and its inhabitants, unscathed. Hal feared what this man's presence could mean for the balance of the peaceful island.

"What to do? What to do?" She sighed, staring solemnly across the abandoned beach as if the answer would stroll across the sand and drop beside her to offer its assistance. But she felt obligated to make sure she at least tried to see to his health for the time being. Stranger or not, she would want someone to do the same for her. Not to mention she had already brought him this far.

The wet and bloody fabric of his tunic pulled apart easily as she ripped it to get to his injuries. When the damage was exposed for her to see, she closed her eyes in pity, sympathetic to the wounds. If she had to guess, the unlucky stranger had been caught in or close to the grip of the Nïdhwal at some point. Not only were there gaping gashes across this chest, but his body looked as though it had been crushed. The bruising was horrible, covering his entire chest, and Hal could see that one of his legs appeared to be equally damaged, twisted and bent at an awkward angle. It was a relief he was unconscious, because if he woke up now the pain alone might kill him.

Hal worked quickly, realizing that his injuries were, indeed, beyond her expertise. She quickly searched the entrance to the forest for healing herbs and flowers which she chewed vigorously, her saliva mixing with the natural and bitter leaves to activate their healing properties. She ripped several from the ground and brought them with her. She spread the leaves across his injuries. They were to help with pain and infection, but she wasn't sure what good they would do. She had few supplies on her persons, doing her best to wrap the deep gashes on his torso, but having a hard time lifting his dead weight to do even a decent job.

Normally she would have made a splint for his leg, but he had no time. She had a lot of ground to cover after her travels before darkness would begin to settle soon. She had no safe means of getting him there, but Nani would have to do. Once they were settled on top of the steed, the man's head rolled back on Hal's shoulder, her arms under his to hold the reigns, they took off. Hal dared a final look back, her eyes downcast in sadness at the dragon's mysterious disappearance.


	2. Chapter 2: The Stranger

The village of Tenariono never saw any excitement of any kind. In the centuries that the people had maintained life on the island, they had managed to avoid any major conflict or excitement. So when Hal came rushing in on an exhausted Nani, a strange man unconscious and practically in her lap, it stirred a buzz amongst the quiet folk who were heading into their homes and settling in for supper. They had managed to make decent time, encountering no wild beasts, such as bears or lovuk — larger cousins to the wolf and the creatures she had initially been on the lookout for — on their ride. That was fortunate, especially considering the stench of blood surrounding them.

Hal could feel the beads of sweat upon her forehead as Nani finished the final stretch to a small hut on the outskirts of the village. Many of the homes were identical, except some may vary in size depending on how many people occupied it. They were made of dried mud, stone slabs, and wood. It was a mix of things to keep the homes cool during the island's brutal heat but sturdy over time and through wind and rain. There was a courtyard out front with a small fire pit for cooking and heating water. The rest of the rooms stretched around the courtyard in a U-shape. The first room to the left was nothing more than a space to conduct business and entertain guest, the individual rooms and bathing area on the right provided more privacy and places of rest. The kitchen was in the back.

Hal could hear laughter coming from the guest room as she slowed Nani to a tired halt in the courtyard. The horse warily but carefully lowered herself to the dusty ground. "DENU! DENU, COME QUICK!"

Hal was breathing as if she had been running, not her horse. A few moments later, an older man came out. His skin was rich ebony, much like Hal's whose complexion was softer with her younger age. He had no hair on his head, but his beard was thick and white. His eyes were wide, brown, cloudy, and unseeing, as the old man had never before had his sight, blinded since birth. He carried with him a six-foot walking stick, the same height as he, different species of animals beautifully carved throughout the wood. He wore dark robes that wrapped around his hips and across his torso. He wore no sandals.

"Halen, what is it, what is wrong? Why do I smell blood? Who is the person with you?"

"There was a man, in the water, a Nïdhwal, and a dragon. My gods, there was a bloody dragon fighting a Nïdhwal and I…I can't find Mennes…"

"How badly is he hurt?"

"His wounds are more than words can describe."

"It sounds like I am needed," said Mennes, a man the same age as Denu, who appeared before them. But Denu stood straighter. Mennes' body was more hunched, as if his spine was beginning to permanently curve after the countless number of sick and injured he had hovered over the past several decades of his life. He was the only medicine man in the village, with a young apprentice in training, and was masterful in the skill of making people well. Hal wondered what he would be able to do against such damage inflicted on the stranger.

"Hal," Mennes began slowly, his eyes now seeing the sight before him as he stood next to Denu. "Who is this man?"

"He's suffered horribly. Can you at least look at him, Mennes?"

The old man was flustered, clearly as anxious as Hal was at the sight of the stranger but slower to act. Denu seemed unfazed, but his brows were slightly furrowed as if lost in another thought. "Let's get him inside," Mennes sighed.

They fetched additional help from the other guests Denu was entertaining over chicken, greens, and goblets of sweet wine. They had cleared the food and mess, getting the bloody man settled on a patchwork quilt so as not to lay him on directly onto the ground before Denu kindly ordered them out. Hal saw their fervent glances and knew the rumors would spread like wildfire now.

Hal rolled a feather pillow and tied it with a rope before nestling it under the man's head. Then she allowed Mennes to order her around, fetching water to boil, bandages, plants and herbs from his hut, needles and thread, and whatever other equipment he called for. Denu sat quietly on the floor against the wall, his walking stick perched carefully in his lap.

They completely undressed him without much fanfare, Mennes unfazed and Hal more concerned by the injuries that were further revealed. His clothes could not be salvaged, his trousers discarded as quickly as Hal had discarded his tunic earlier. His boots were in somewhat of a decent condition, so Hal set them aside. Hal placed a thin cloth over his groin, but there was not much modesty to preserve at this point. And with the full extent of the damage revealed to them, Hal knew they were in for a long night.

"You should not have moved him, let alone _put him on a horse_ ," Mennes said disapprovingly. "You probably made things worse."

"I did the only thing I could do to save his life," she said unapologetically. Yet her gaze still lingered nervously over the horrible bruising along his torso. "But next time, I'll be sure to put _you_ on the horse, old man."

"Help me roll him over," Mennes commanded, ignoring her quip, as she kneeled down on the other side of the man, opposite Mennes.

Hal had rolled up her sleeves, ignoring the blood stains that she had already collected. She grabbed the man's waist and shoulder and pulled as Mennes pushed. He started to examine the back for other injuries, but his eyes widened as he sucked in his breath. His expression became a fearful anger as he stood, pointing an accusatory finger at Hal. "What sort of dark blasphemy is this, Halen?"

"Mennes?"

"You would bring this traitor into our midst? Into your _home_?"

"Mennes, speak wisely," Denu said softly, scratching his nose. "Or at least with context, we have _no_ idea what you're raving about."

"It is Murtagh Morzansson! Aide to Galbatorix and the son of the traitor himself, Morzan."

"That was quite clear when you called him Morzansson," Denu sighed, his tone almost nonchalant. But his eyes narrowed with concern. "Mennes, are you sure it is he?" he asked, pressing gently.

"Of course, I'm sure, he has the blasted scar everyone talked about. His father was a sick bastard —that much is obvious."

Hal was not familiar with the stories from the mainland and their infrequent trips to it were far and few enough in between that the village often didn't hear news until months after it had transpired, sometimes years. She had heard fleetingly of the man Mennes spoke of: Murtagh. But not much. Looking back, she realized the red dragon was a huge indicator, but in the chaos of the afternoon, she was hardly putting together the obvious clues waging war in front of her.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Hal exclaimed as Mennes rose to his feet, turning towards the door.

He shook his head, his lip curled in contempt. "The blood on this man's hands runs deeper than I care to think about. I will not dishonor his victims by saving his life."

Hal bit her lip. Mennes was right. To a degree. She did not know this man's thorough history, but if his crimes were as bad as Mennes said, then helping him would brand them traitors, would it not? And if he truly had served the king…the thought alone was enough to make Hal want to return him to the ocean where she found him. She dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to make sense of her very muddled brain. She only wanted to protect her people. But she had to admit that doing so would have meant leaving him and the dragon to die. She thought of the dragon's pain, its final effort to protect his rider to its death. Hal had reacted to a human in danger because that was how she had been raised: to respect life and know her place amongst it. She had brought the man this far. She could not abandon her efforts now.

But it was Denu who spoke first, as if he had read Hal's mind. "Mennes, I understand your hesitation —"

"I am not hesitating, Denu, I outright refuse!"

"Do not let one man's transgressions fuel your own. You know as well as I that if we let this man die out of malicious intent, our souls would never find satisfactory peace."

"He is a _traitor_ , Denu! Would you bring the wrath of the empire upon us? For heaven's sake, they say he killed a dwarf king _and_ another dragon rider! The enemies we would make...not to mention he could kill us all to make sure we don't alert the queen to his whereabouts. We should take him back to the ocean now before he wakes! Before it is _too late_."

Hal visibly flinched at this. Denu shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Mennes. I know the risk, I understand your concern, and I sympathize with your loyalty to your people and the queen. But we are not _murderers_. We are not soldiers or executioners but your very words indicate we should act as such. Traitor or not, we are in a position to help this young man. You must rise above your fear and hatred and do what is right, even when it is not easy."

"You can tell me what to do?" Hal said slowly, thinking. She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but she knew there was no other way. "You do not have to handle him directly, but guide me and I will do it in your place. I brought him this far, I won't let him die now."

Mennes was wavering, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he looked from Hal to Denu. "I hate when you two agree. It's worse than when you argue." Hal nodded her head in understanding of Mennes' compliance. "Do not get too comfortable, child," he warned, kneeling back down on the ground. "When he is well, he should leave at once."

Hal nodded again as Mennes began to instruct her. They worked tirelessly into the night and early morning, slowed down by Hal's unfamiliarity with the human body to this extent. Hal was growing weary with fatigue, and she realized as the sun began to peak through the reed mats that covered the windows — keeping out the dust, heat, and insects — that she hadn't eaten in several hours. Her vision grew blurry until she blinked rapidly, only for it to continue a few moments later. Her hands were shaking with a lack of food and her throat was dry. Denu and Mennes weren't faring much better, worse in their old age, and Denu refused to leave Hal's side even if he could not contribute directly. Occasionally he would hear footsteps approaching and leave to prevent onlookers and nosy neighbors, but otherwise they were left alone.

When they finally finished, Hal and Mennes practically collapsed. Her stomach pains were worsening as Mennes spoke. "We have done all we can. We will have to keep a watchful eye on him. He cannot be allowed to reopen his wounds or he will surely bleed out, if he hasn't already. With this kind of damage, he's in for a long, painful road to recovery."

Hal was staring in shock at her hands, only halfway listening. The sight of human blood on her palms unnerved her. She had hunted and skinned many animals, but this was different. It was frightening, as if she herself had inflicted these wounds on him. Her hands were stained bright red, the liquid embedded deep under her nails and in the crevices of her palms. She licked her lips slowly, raising her head to listen to Mennes' final instructions.

"If anyone asks, I will tell them you found a shipwrecked man and brought him for healing. But that is the last I will do for this man."

"You have already done more than enough," Denu said with a smile that didn't quite reach his troubled eyes. "Go get some rest."

Once Mennes was gone, the air felt impossibly thick as Denu rose to his feet, his back to Hal. "Halen, what were you _thinking_?"

"As you so often and eloquently put it: I wasn't," she sighed, lying on her back once more and staring up at the ceiling. "I heard the cries of his dragon and —"

"Ah, I was wondering if his dragon was close."

"It no longer matters, I could not find the creature afterwards. But he was attacked by a Nïdhwal," Hal recounted slowly, closing her eyes despite trying to fight off the urge to sleep. "I could hear its screams and I just —"

"You never could bear the sound of a creature in pain," Denu sighed.

"I didn't realize who he was," Hal continued, trying to scratch at an itch on her forehead with the back of her arm so that she didn't get the rider's blood on her face. "Denu, if I had known —"

"You wouldn't have done anything differently," he said. "You can be difficult, but you are not capable of cruelty." Hal sighed — for some mad reason — childishly wanting to refute his claims simply for arguments sake, but knowing it would be a waste of breath. He was right after all. "How _exactly_ did you manage to rescue the young man, anyway?"

With trepidation, Hal truthfully admitted to her spur-of-the-moment cliff dive between two warring creatures. Denu's face grew twisted with rage until he finally slammed his walking stick into the soft earth beneath them. "Dammit, Halen, how could you be so reckless?!"

She rolled her eyes at his outburst. "I didn't think he had much time. I just…reacted."

"You could have been killed, and for what? What would you have me do if Nani had come back without you?"

Hal was quiet, listening as Denu struggled to control his breathing. Guilt racked her body, but she could not make herself apologize for what she had done, only for causing him pain. She told him this, and he sighed. "You are unbelievably stubborn."

I get it from you, you know."

He snorted. "I'm not this bad."

Hal looked over at the dragon rider and sighed. He was covered in blood, bruises, bandages, and stitches, one leg in a splint and his torso tightly wrapped. His breathing was still ragged, his face — what wasn't hidden behind the thick, unsightly beard — was still pale. He certainly didn't look like he had led any evil armies into battle. Absentmindedly, Hal went and poked at the fire in the courtyard and began preparing to heat more water. She needed to think less of his past and focus more on his present needs — otherwise she would lose her composure.

"What are you about to do?" Denu asked.

"I'm going to clean the blood and dirt off of him," Hal said with a tired sigh. "And then I'll be done."

"You've done enough already, Halen, do not push yourself."

"I never do," she muttered dryly and he gave her a skeptic look.

He did not try to stop her as she left some water boiling over the fire and poured herself a fresh bowl. She washed her hands again before beginning to clean his body, starting with his head. She was meticulous, gently rubbing at the caked-on blood and sand until what skin hadn't been bruised or injured was revealed, which wasn't much. Hal wiped at her forehead, pushing her dark curls from her face. They had long since fallen from their tight braid, long strands beginning to creep into her face with annoying persistence. After a while, she left them alone.

Even though the man was still unconscious, she worked as though any movement would cause him pain. She lifted his arms slowly, resting them in her lap, pulling apart his fingers with utmost care. She turned his left hand over.

She knew now he was a dragon rider, but seeing the mark, the gedwëy ignasia, on his palm gave her pause. Confirming what had still felt only like speculation. She watched his face closely for a sign of consciousness and, when finding none, raised her hand to examine the curious mark. She hesitated only for a moment, checking his face once more, before her fingers lightly traced the diffused oval, surprised to find that it felt like nothing more than skin, but was silver in color. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but she stared at the stranger once more with profound curiosity and uncertainty. Hal wondered how he would fair when he woke.

She sighed and finished cleaning him. For the next few hours she alternated between checking his wounds for infection, replacing his bandages, checking for a fever, and making sure he was still breathing. Denu finally forced her to eat and rest, but she only laid down next to the rider, not wanting to stray too far lest he take a turn for the worst.

As she closed her eyes, she dreamt of the red dragon, fighting furiously with the Nïdhwal. She felt uneasy, recalling the sharp teeth that almost claimed her life. The vicious sea serpent bit into the dragon's neck and the creature let out a wail so loud and full of pain that Hal jerked awake in surprise. She was bleary-eyed and sure that she hadn't even slept an hour when she registered the screams of her people and a malicious roar that wasn't from her dream.


	3. Chapter 3: The Might of a Dragon

Hal scrambled to her feet, completely forgetting about the rider as panic set in. She felt half-crazed, so disoriented from lack of sleep that she almost forgot about the events of yesterday. But as another terrifying roar, guttural and menacing, reverberated around them, she immediately felt wide awake and panicked.

"Denu, stay here and keep an eye on the rider," she ordered, running past him and ignoring his protests and the irony of her command. Outside, she barely made it five feet out of her courtyard when a dark shadow flew overhead. Many of the villagers were in the fields some distance away, but Hal and a few others were standing in the creature's direct line of sight.

The dragon landed awkwardly on top of a hut and Hal could see that it was still gravely injured, its wing bent grossly out of shape. Its legs crumbled underneath it as the small hut collapsed completely to the ground. She gasped in horror, hoping no one had been inside. It was chaotic on the ground, people either running over one another in fear or completely frozen in place. One such child of seven, Layla, was standing on her own and the dragon narrowed in on her and roared so violently that the girl burst into tears. Hal reacted heatedly, her mind racing as she scoured her immediate surroundings. She found a rock the size of her hand and lunged for it, taking a brief running start before hurling the stone at the dragon, striking it across the cheek.

"Leave her alone, you oversized lizard!" Hal snapped, backing away quickly as the dragon turned and stalked towards her, its nostrils smoking. Its eyes narrowed in on the Hal's blood-stained clothes and roared again. It was limping with such a predatory gaze that its injuries hardly seemed to hinder it in its rage.

"Hal!" Layla screamed, terrified. But Hal, despite the fear rising up her throat, had a sturdier resolve.

"Your rider is safe," Hal shouted, hoping to get the creature to see reason. But all it did was let out a roar so loud and powerful that Hal frightfully tripped over her own two feet and fell back. She scrambled as the dragon came up on her, and all she could do was lie flat and press herself against the dusty earth. She could smell the dragon's breath, but most of all, she could feel its fear. But that did nothing to appease her own.

She forced herself to hold its gaze and she spoke slowly. "My people had nothing to do with this." It snorted and she swallowed nervously. Okay, so it did seem to understand her. "I saw you fighting the Nïdhwal, and I alone pulled your rider from the water. I brought him here because he was gravely injured…he's weak. But he's _alive_." For now, at least.

The dragon let out a pitiful moan before it suddenly jerked its head towards the hut Hal shared with Denu. The same hut where the rider lay. Did the creature know?

Hal was able to turn onto her stomach sensing movement as she barely heard Denu begin to speak softly. There was a tense silence and Hal wondered, terrified, that the man had died and the dragon had felt it. But her eyes widened in disbelief. Coming slowly out of the entrance to the hut was the dragon rider himself, the blanket wrapped around his hips and tucked in securely so it didn't cause any further shock to the villagers. His pace was slow, his face twisted in pain. He limped, inhibited by the heavy splint on his leg and his damaged torso, but aided by Denu's walking stick. He put so much weight on it, Hal feared he would break it. He shouldn't have been able to walk at all. And just because he _could_ certainly didn't mean he _should_.

"You shouldn't be up," Hal finally spluttered, shocked to see him awake even this long. The pain alone should have already rendered him to the point of unconsciousness. And she could see in his face that he was fighting it back. She told herself she was not responsible for any further damage he caused himself, although she felt infuriated that he would put himself at such risk.

The dragon let out another low moan and Hal fell silent in understanding. The rider didn't acknowledge her anyway. The creature sidestepped Hal and lowered its head, crooning as if crying tears of relief. She laid there, transfixed, as the man finally reached the red dragon, and he placed his palm on the dragon's body for support, dropping the walking stick. Then he laid his forehead on the bloodied scales. Hal realized he was quietly weeping and she bit her lip, feeling as though she were intruding on a private moment. And yet, she couldn't look away, transfixed by the open vulnerability on his face.

He began to murmur and a bright, crimson light — the same color as the vibrant scales on the dragon — was emitted from his hand; the dragon roared angrily, as if in protest. Hal's eyes widened and the villagers stepped back, shouting in surprise as the glow consumed his hand. She stared in awe and fear as the dragon's wounds healed, the cuts closing, and the bones in the crooked wing straightening.

The man immediately passed out afterwards, falling to the side, and Hal rushed to catch him before he hit the ground, potentially causing further harm. She reached him in time, but his dead weight was too much, and she herself began to fall back. Before she could attempt to catch herself, the dragon's tail uncoiled quickly and caught her, gently leading her to the ground so that she could kneel and better support the rider's weight. She watched its glowing red eyes with trepidation, saying nothing. She pressed her ear to the rider's chest, listening to his heartbeat, and violently swore. It was even weaker than before!

"Halen, get him inside," Denu instructed. He was standing in the doorway, eyeing the dragon warily. "That amount of magic in his condition might have weakened him considerably. Keep a close eye on him."

Hal convinced two men she knew, Eli and Cado, to carry the man back inside. She took a final look at the villagers, their faces twisted in fear and more coming to inspect the source of the noise only to reel back in surprise at the hulking red dragon before them. A few were examining the destroyed hut, attempting to move the heavy mud and stone, and Hal realized the gravity of their situation. She had put these people in danger. She had thought trouble, if it came, would be from the empire, not the dragon. She immediately made a move towards the destroyed hut to help check and see if anyone had been inside and to begin salvaging parts. Denu stuck out his walking stick and stopped her.

"Just keep an eye on the dragon rider. I will deal with everything else."

People slowly began to leave, wanting to be out of the dragon's range but shooting it fearful and mistrustful gazes. A few were even directed at Hal, betrayed that she had brought such dangerous strangers into their midst. That hurt her more than she expected and she bristled with fury. Hal walked up to the dragon and gave it a harsh look, pointing to the hut it had destroyed. "I hope to gods there was no one in that house. We will take care of your rider, on that you have my word. But afterwards, take him and go, before you cause any more harm."

It did not acknowledge her, and it hardly blinked. She stormed off, infuriated with herself. The tension began to build in her muscles again, her stomach twisting into knots. Maybe, against her better judgement, she should've left them both in the ocean to fend against fate alone.


	4. Chapter 4: First Impressions

For Murtagh, the last few days were riddled with nothing but silence. There were no thoughts to occupy his mind, no state of being to question. It was as though he were asleep, with no dreams to distract him. It was almost peaceful in its silence. No one's thoughts or influence but his own. But there was a small corner of nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Something that kept him from giving in to the silence. Something he kept holding on to, like a lifeline.

What eventually came to rouse him from his unconscious state, he would never know. All he would remember is being immobilized and dragged under the ocean by the Nïdhwal, pinned and unable to breath, getting pulled deeper into the warm waters. Screaming out of desperation. Next, he would be fighting towards consciousness, feeling as though he were swimming in a thick bog, his movements and thoughts inhibited and slow. And when he finally came to, a panic immediately settled over his heart when he realized he had no idea where he was.

Above him was a compacted clay ceiling. He blinked repeatedly and quickly, trying to clear his blurry vision. He forced himself to relax as he reached out for Thorn, scared of what he might find.

 _Do not fret young one, I am here. And we are safe, for now._

Murtagh breathed, tears pricking his eyes in relief. _Thorn where —_? But before he could finish his thought, excruciating pain hit him as though it had been dropped on top of his chest. He gasped as the feeling began to return, his body shaking in a cold sweat and yet he felt hot all the same. He knew he shouldn't move yet he began to thrash in an effort to withstand the pain.

His arm flailed wildly, and his fingers gripped something soft, a towel. His muscles jerked and he realized that it was lying under something heavy. A bowl, he would soon find out, when it fell off the small stool it had been sitting on and crashed onto the floor, splattering him with cool water and fragments of hardened clay.

Movement to his right, and he flinched, fearing the worst, as a woman shot up like she had been struck, brandishing a dagger in her right hand. She had been curled up on a bench up against the wall, keeping watch over him apparently. Murtagh eyed the weapon in panic, knowing he was in no condition to defend himself, fearing the worst. He hardly had a moment to wonder who the knife was for. He gasped and she turned to face him, blinking in bewilderment and confusion until understanding grew in her eyes.

"Dammit. You picked a fine time to wake up, rider."

Her voice was lower than he expected, wary and laced with exhaustion. She seemed almost irritated with him. Inconvenienced. But she set down her dagger and got to her feet, quickly running out of the room.

Murtagh thought he was going to be sick or perhaps pass out again. And he knew he had no energy to heal himself. The risk was too great. It would kill him if he tried. The woman returned, a torch in hand that she stuck into a nook in the wall to light the room. She had a small blanket in her hands holding a few items that she set beside him. Then she dropped to her knees, a set look of determination in her eyes as she got to work.

With the room now faintly lit, Murtagh did his best to observe as much of his surroundings as he could. The room they were in was fairly large, a sitting area made to entertain guests based on the decorative pillows shoved against the wall and out of the way, along with a long table that could seat at least eight. There was a bench several feet long, the width of the room, where the woman had been sleeping. He was lying on the floor, on a makeshift cot, but he could still feel the hard earth underneath him. There was a warm breeze coming from the decent-sized windows, but he still shivered as though cold.

He was unsure of what to make of the woman. In the light, he realized she was younger than he had expected. Even with the one sentence there was something about the tone of voice that reminded him of a matron: firm and no-nonsense. But she had to be around his age, maybe only a few years younger. He was surprised by her ebony complexion, smooth and bright with youth. While she had been out of the room, she had pulled back her thick, dark curls into a ponytail that hung down her back. Her brown eyes were wide and gave nothing away except her caution as she returned his stare.

She leaned forward suddenly and placed her forehead to his. He began to recoil but she was sitting back before he could protest. "Your fever has spiked," she sighed, as if commenting casually on the weather instead of his condition. "Unfavorably so."

She removed the wet blanket from his persons and mumbled about having to fetch a dry one. She set it aside for now and for the first time, Murtagh glanced down and realized the only courtesy he had was a thin cloth laid across his lap. But before he could get embarrassed, the mess that was his body explained the state of his undress and pain. There was hardly a stretch of skin on him that was unharmed. Purple and green bruises adorned his chest and the rest was covered in bandages. There was hardly any skin left unwrapped or uninjured. Every breath he took was riddled with pain, his lungs expanding into crushed ribs. One leg looked mottled and twisted, broken and useless. No ordinary man could expect to walk after such an ordeal, let alone live.

The woman must've seen the expression on his face because hers softened a bit. "Unfortunately, there are no magic users here to ease your suffering," she said. "But we will do our best to make you well again until you are strong enough to heal yourself."

 _Thorn, where are we?_

 _A small village on Illium. The woman tending to you found us and brought you here. But unfortunately, I do not recall much of what happened either._

 _How long?_

 _Two weeks._

Murtagh spluttered in disbelief, trying to sit up without thinking. But before he could further injure himself, the woman quickly placed her hands on his shoulders and firmly planted him on his back. Not that she needed to. The pain was a crippling reminder that he wasn't going anywhere. She gave him a stern look. " _Don't_ move."

She was, of course, right, but he still bristled with indignation at being told what to do. Not to mention he now had questions that apparently only she could answer. He took a slow, deep breath, staring up at the ceiling and regaining his composure. "Tell me your name," he grunted, trying to put as much base in his voice as possible in an effort to intimidate her.

She didn't look up, the air around them stiff as she seemed to contemplate answering him. "I don't think I will," she said after a long pause. "It's not really relevant here, is it, Murtagh Morzansson?"

The air was thick with tension as he eyed her with profound mistrust and concern. But he gritted his teeth, trying not to let his feelings show. She knew who he was and, in his current physical state, had the upper hand. But he wouldn't let her know it.

"It hardly seems fair that you should know my name but I don't know yours."

"Tough," she said curtly. Any trace of compassion was gone now at his forceful badgering. "All you need to know is that despite my better judgement, I will see to your health for the time being."

"Is that meant to be comforting?"

"Would you prefer I hold your hand and sing you a sweet lullaby?"

He held his tongue and she took his silence as finite for the time being. She worked quietly, only briefly explaining what she was doing to make sure he would cooperate. One of his gashes was becoming infected, although she had apparently been checking his bandages enough that she had, at least, caught it early. She carefully removed the stitches from his chest, her face remaining impassive while she worked.

 _Thorn, have you been able to glean anything about these people?_

 _Unfortunately, no. They have gone out of their way to keep their distance. But I have not sensed anything unusual or threatening since arriving either. And no magic, just as the woman claims._

It was all they had to go on, and Murtagh trusted Thorn's observations.

"This will sting a bit."

Murtagh swore violently as she poured a warm liquid into his wounds. It burned like an open flame and tears pricked the corner of his eyes, and he swore at her harshly. "You call that _a bit_?" he snapped.

"You were nearly eaten by a sea serpent and _this_ is what does you in? Don't act like such a fragile kitten." He gritted his teeth, the pain still seeping deeper into the wound, along with his pride.

She quickly followed it with a cooling balm that she applied over the gash and Murtagh's breaths of pain began to ease, his body beginning to relax. She re-stitched his wound closed, Murtagh staring at the far wall beyond her head and thinking of other things to distract himself, digging his fingernails into his palm, barely flinching when he broke the skin.

When she was finished, she went about checking his other injuries, applying the balm to help with the pain and wrapping them in clean bandages. Through it all, her hands were surprisingly gentle, but strong. Certainly not healer's hands — the skin on the pads of her fingers was tough and calloused — but capable nonetheless. But she also didn't seem disturbed by his wounds, nor queasy at the sight of blood.

She washed the skin with a warm rag to get the blood and excess ointments. She looked thoroughly exhausted now, and even Murtagh felt weary with how much time had passed since he first awoke. Then as she washed her own hands in the bowl of warm water, she asked him, "Are you hungry at all? We have some leftover bread and some fruit. It's not much, but considering how long you've been unconscious and your current condition, it's probably for the best anyway."

His stomach answered for him at the thought of food, and the woman gave him a surprised look before nodding. "All right then, I'll be right back."

She placed a cool rag on his forehead and left, taking her supplies with her. Murtagh had no energy to spare and exhaustion returned in full force. He was out before the woman even returned.


	5. Chapter 5: The Threats That Go Unsaid

"Tengene is growing restless. They all are —"

"I don't _care_. He's resting — for heaven's sake, he nearly _died_."

Murtagh strained to listen, keeping still with his eyes closed shut as he pretended to still be asleep. He had no doubt they were talking about him, but he was having a hard time deciphering much else without knowing more about where he was. Not to mention he had woken up moments before, jumping into the middle of their hushed conversation.

"Do not mistake my kindness for idiocy," the man said steadfastly. His voice was older, perhaps her father or grandfather. They must've been close because the woman had no qualms speaking her mind against him. Then again, Murtagh was a complete stranger and she had used the same annoyed tone with him as well. "He is dangerous. The dragon perhaps even more so after what he did."

"I'm well aware I'm not nursing _a dandelion_ back to its health, Denu," she said bitingly. "He woke up only a few hours ago; he's weak. Whatever those old fools have to say can, and will, wait."

Silence. Then… "Halen, you do not understand the position you've put me in. To bring an outsider here is one thing but a _fugitive_ …I cannot keep Tengene and the others away forever. They will want to meet him. See if he means us ill will —"

"I had to bird-feed him warm milk and honey so that he didn't wither away in his sleep, I don't think he'll be slaughtering any villages today."

"Halen —"

"I brought him here," she said in a low, firm voice. "If there is to be an inquiry, I will go to it. I've already taken responsibility for the hut. Amon and Tena are upset but they understand. I am asking you to please let him rest. The more rest he gets, the more rest I get. And I'm _tired_ , Denu."

The man sighed. He was silent for a few moments, then, "Of course. Of course, you are right. I am being paranoid."

"You're being careful. And I'm sure Tengene is doing nothing but planting audacious rumors everywhere he can. Bastard."

"Language, Halen. Besides, I don't think most of the villagers are as afraid as they once were. At least the dragon has been well-behaved —" Murtagh flinched, having to refrain from growling at them for the crude way the man spoke of Thorn, "—and I think excitement has been setting in. They're curious."

"Nosy is more like it," she muttered harshly. "If I wasn't the one watching over him, he'd be completely bombarded. There's no telling the state he would be in then."

"Well he's certainly hungry," the man said suddenly as Murtagh's stomach growled. He blushed. "Best not keep him waiting."

Her sigh was heavy, filled with the weight of the burden he had unintentionally placed on her. And his resentment hardened in his chest. "I'll wake him so he can eat."

"No need, he's been awake for quite some time."

The silence that lingered afterwards was tense. Murtagh opened his eyes to find the woman staring at him, frowning with disapproval. Murtagh, however, was unfazed. It wasn't his fault they'd had a supposedly private conversation three-feet away from him.

The old man, however, looked more amused. He stood tall and proud, just a few inches over the woman. The top of his head was closely shaved, but his beard was thick and white. The most surprising feature were his cloudy and unseeing eyes that looked straight at him. Kind, yet they revealed nothing. No emotion or thought. Murtagh felt everything all at once: sucked in. Curious. Exposed.

"You know it's unnerving when you do that, old man" the woman berated, crossing her arms over her chest. She sat down on the bench against the wall where she had slept, crossing one leg over her knee, her foot bouncing restlessly.

"Oh, but I do enjoy it." The man took a small step forward, and Murtagh saw how his deep blue robes moved with him, his steps silenced by the leather sandals on his feet. For a man of a poor and remote village, he stood and composed himself like a benevolent king. He stood tall and proud, but he was sharp, clearly not to be underestimated. Murtagh saw the beautiful walking stick, different species of animals carved out in the top, and remembered:

 _If you must walk, take this. But do try not to snap it, it's my most prized possession._ And that's when he remembered waking up as Thorn's presence grew closer, holding on to that roar like a lifeline as he struggled to his feet. And then realized he had heard the woman's voice before he had first woke. She had chastised him for standing. The one Thorn had zeroed in on.

"Murtagh, my name is Denu Davidsson. I apologize you had to overhear our conversation." The woman snorted. "Admittedly not one of my better ideas. But rest assured, I _am_ glad to see you awake. Halen would have never let me hear the end of it if anything had happened to you."

The woman rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "I'll go find him something to eat then."

"Thank you, _Halen_ ," Murtagh called out, giving her pause at the door. She gave him a hard look. He could see her irritation in her eyes, the tightness in her jaw as she clenched it. There was no surname or history to accompany her identity like Murtagh's name did for him. But it still felt like a small victory, and he could not help but gloat silently against her obvious disdain at the sudden turn of events.

When she left, both men observing her departure, Denu's smile faltered until his expression grew somber. Murtagh hesitated, unsure of the man's temperament, before asking, "Who is Tengene?"

Denu took Halen's spot on the bench, the walking stick between his legs and resting back on his shoulder. "You could say we're a rather removed village when it comes to the issues of the mainland. War never reached us here on Illium. So, as you can imagine, the fact that Halen brought home a dragon rider, and _you_ no less, has a few people on edge. Not many," he added quickly. "But a few whose opinions matter. Tengene is one of those people."

"Do they mean me or Thorn harm?"

The man's eyes grew wide. "Heavens, no! The few like me who are truly concerned are too old to cause you any harm. Although Halen has complained that we could nag a tree to death. Comes with being old and ornery I suppose. Anyway, after what you did with your dragon…you are much stronger than us even in your weakest state."

Murtagh waited for the 'but.'

"But we are concerned. I'm sure you can understand."

"It is as Halen said," Murtagh said sourly, "I have no intention of slaughtering any villages."

"Unfortunately, our concern lies in the ones you already have."

The air grew cold, shame and fury turning Murtagh's cheeks red. There was no response that he could use to defend himself. It was not as if the man was wrong, and that's what stung. Murtagh struggled to unclench his teeth, speaking in a low voice: "I am grateful for the…hospitality." Although he wasn't sure that the word quite fit their behavior towards him and grateful felt like even more of a reach. "All I ask is that when I am able to leave, I am allowed to do so." Otherwise, he would have to use force. But the threat went unsaid, even if it was felt by the stillness in the room.

The man nodded his head. "Of course." He rose to his feet. "I will let you rest. Halen will threaten me with bodily harm if I am too disruptive."

Murtagh didn't respond, staring at the ceiling as he was left alone for a few moments. For just a second, and not for the first time, he wished he had kept the Eldunarí so he could just heal himself and be done with it all.

And then he groaned in despair. His swords, all of his possessions — they were likely lying at the bottom of the ocean. It would be weeks before he was strong enough to recover them. Clearly, he was still paying penance for all the damage he had wrought. And clearly his reputation preceded him if such a remote village was still this wary of his presence. He snorted with derision, moving to cover the pain in his eyes with his arm when he was quickly distracted. He stared at the new bandage, wrapped around the palm of his hand where he had dug his nails into his skin just last night. How she had managed to spot such a minor injury at all…? He clenched his jaw, feeling his debt to the woman grow to heights he did not care to admit.

A throat suddenly cleared itself from the doorway and he looked over in surprise to find her, Halen, watching him and looking uncomfortable. "I can come back…" she suggested slowly, already taking a step back.

Murtagh angrily wiped his eyes, his stomach pains growing worse when he spied the plate of food. "I'm fine."

She didn't argue, only hesitating for a moment as if unsure whether or not she wanted to be stuck in the same room as a crying murderer. Up close and in proper lighting, Murtach could see that she was, indeed, about his age. She had the lightest array of freckles across her nose and part of her cheeks, unique blemishes on an otherwise smooth face. Despite the difference in her features, her ebony complexion reminded him, painfully, of Nasuada, and he turned his head to stare at the opposite wall as she cut up his food.

"It's not much," she said. To his surprise, she seemed almost embarrassed. Although he couldn't be sure if it was because they were poor or because she had caught him with his emotions unchecked. He had a feeling it was the latter. "But it's probably for the best that we don't give you anything too heavy anyway. Don't want to upset your stomach while we get you back on solid foods."

 _I had to bird-feed him warm milk and honey so that he didn't wither away in his sleep…_ Murtagh fought to maintain his composure against the humiliating images her words conjured in his head. To have been so weak and helpless, even now, and at the mercy of a complete stranger. He had never known himself to be in such a pitiful state. He turned back and looked at the plate in her lap. Two large pieces of bread and slices of a brightly colored, sweet-looking fruit he had not seen before. He averted his gaze, not wanting to appear desperate despite how loudly his stomach growled at the sight of such a simple meal. "I don't mind it."

Even though it was out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her lips twitch.

Halen had to help him sit up so that he didn't risk choking on his food lying on his back. She struggled, however, against his weight, trying to brace herself without hurting him too much. Murtagh gritted his teeth, trying to bear it quietly. He inhaled sharply, breathing in a surprising mix of aromas: lavender on the woman's neck that was slightly overshadowed by the natural earthy and smoky scents in her hair. Murtagh thought of her hands and wondered if she spent much time outdoors.

"I probably should've gotten someone else to do that," she breathed, winded.

Murtagh didn't know what to say to that, he just eyed the plate of food with increased longing until she finally noticed his gaze. She gave him a curious look as she set the plate in his lap. He pretended she wasn't there as he took a few bites of the food. The flavors of the bread erupted on his tongue and his eyes widened in surprise as he pulled the small loaf back to stare at it. There were small berries baked right in, blueberries and blackberries he thought. There were also spices dancing on his tongue, rich and melding perfectly with the nuts, and…honey? It shouldn't have all worked together, or at least been overpowering. Instead, it was perhaps the best bread he had ever had.

He was seconds from licking his plate clean when Halen set another plate onto his lap. He hadn't even noticed her leave and come back. His previous irritation with the woman slowly faded as his stomach became full and much of his hunger abated.

"You have a healthy appetite, that's good," she said with a small smile, relief in her eyes. It was brief, but even Murtagh could see that it was genuine. He supposed the old man, Denu, had been telling the truth — she had been worried about him. He thought of the bandage on his hand and studied her face carefully, the weariness in her bloodshot eyes. The heavy bags underneath. Had she stayed up to keep an eye on him? Had she dressed the self-inflicted wounds on his hand and then checked the other injuries as well? For some absurd reason, he knew she had. Despite her carefully distant demeanor, it was quite obvious she was not a person capable of cruelty. He himself knew what such people were like.

He swallowed the food in his mouth. "Thank you for the meal," he said with a tired sigh, his way of apologizing for his behavior.

She gave him a raised brow of surprise before her she quickly composed her expression into something more unreadable. "Think nothing of it, rider." He watched her carefully as her brow furrowed in thought. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. "What you overheard —"

"It doesn't matter," Murtagh said quickly, swallowing a mouthful of food before tearing another chunk of bread with his teeth. Before he even finished chewing, he took a large bite out of the fruit, the juices exploding on his tongue and running down his chin and into his beard. He didn't want to have this conversation. He just wanted to be left alone. "The man is simply being careful. He is wise."

Do we need a reason to be careful around you?"

Her voice was hard, but before she could compose her face, he saw it. It was brief, easily missed if one didn't know to look for it. But her caution, her wariness, was there, in her eyes, when she looked at him. Murtagh felt his cold indifference return, her nervousness a reminder of who he was to these people. A traitor and a murderer. A monster. "That depends on you, now doesn't it?"

"You would harm a defenseless village?"

"Only against my better judgement. As long as Thorn and I are allowed to leave freely, then I suspect my judgement will be just fine."

She rose slowly to her feet, her face expressionless. But her disdain was evident and the feeling was mutual. "I'll let you get some rest."

Her back was stiff as she walked, her hands tightly gripping the material of her skirt. Murtagh told himself it didn't matter what some remote village thought of him. He just wanted to heal and leave in peace. If inciting fear allowed him to do so, then so be it.

Aside from Thorn, it's not like he had much to lose anyway.


	6. Chapter 6: Semantics

"Is it true that he can control you with his mind?"

"No."

"Is he very frightening?"

"Not particularly."

"Has he used any more magic?"

"Not in his current state, especially after the stunt he pulled with his dragon."

"Captain, permission to be honest."

"Permission granted."

"This is all very disappointing."

Hal snorted, looking over at the very dejected Layla with a bemused expression. "That's what you get for gossiping with the other children — you know better than that."

"I suppose so. If the rider has had to put up with you for a few days and _you're_ not dead, I suppose he can't be all bad."

"When I'm not elbow-deep in suds, remind me to throttle you later." Layla shrieked in delight as Hal splashed her.

"All right you two, knock it off," Tena scolded.

"We're just having fun, mama," Layla huffed, splashing around in the cool, shallow water of the river where the women on this side of the village congregated to do laundry. "Right Hal?"

But Hal kept her mouth shut, ignoring Tena's stare that dared Hal talk back. Hal had somewhat lied when she told Denu that Amon and Tena had understood the events that led to their hut being destroyed. Amon understood. Tena had been beside herself with fury. Hal did not take it personally — they had six children and were now cramped together with Amon's parents in a hut big enough for three. It wasn't an ideal situation for anyone, so Hal did not need any other reason for Tena to be upset with her.

"I am curious though," said Ophelia. She was a young mother and wife, only married a year to Hal's close friend, Eli, with a six-month-old strapped to her back, sleeping soundly. Her hair was wrapped up in a scarf to keep it out of her face while she worked. "He has been awake for several days now. What _is_ his temperament like, Hal?"

The few women in close proximity to hear the conversation briefly stopped what they were doing to gaze at Hal. Even Tena's harsh scrubbing on the washboard had softened so that the noise didn't overpower whatever Hal would say next. Hating the sudden attention, Hal forced her gaze down. She was washing the blankets and rags she had been using for the rider, soiled in blood, sweat, and dirt.

She thought of his cold and distant gaze, the sorrow in his voice, and the tears in his eyes when he thought he was alone. She recalled with a shiver his subtle threat against the village. Hal did not truly believe he would harm them, yet the fact that the threat had still rolled so easily off his tongue unnerved her. Hal didn't know what to think of him, and she didn't know what to say. She didn't trust him — a feeling she knew was mutual — and that was enough for her. But they didn't need to know any of that; they didn't need any reason to think they weren't safe in their homes.

"He is…difficult to describe," she said at last. "But he has made no indication that he means us any harm," she added, avoiding their gazes. "He just wants to regain his strength so that he may leave as soon as he is able."

"Boooriiiing," Layla chanted.

"He ought to _fix my house_!" Tena snapped, wagging a sopping wet finger at Hal. "His bloody dragon destroyed the whole damn thing. Even the frame — we have to rebuild completely from scratch. It will take us _months_!"

"She keeps telling anyone who would listen," Sarah whispered, brown eyes twinkling as she leaned over to Hal so that she would not be overheard. She was an older woman, her own children already married and starting their own families. "If she nagged the rider as much as she did us, she probably _could_ make him rebuild the hut just to shut her up."

Hal choked on her laughter, clamming up quickly when Tena shot her a venomous glare, as though having heard Sarah's remark, and busied herself with her linens. When she was finished, Hal bade her goodbyes, her laundry basket in hand. She felt her shoulders relax and her breathing loosen as she reached the peace and quiet of her hut. She nodded amicably at Thorn, who watched her with a lazy eye like always when she appeared around him. And like always, he moved from his spot on the side of the hut to the back as she did the laundry. It had been like this since he had shown up at the village. And although Hal could not tell if it was to keep an eye on her or simple curiosity, she had not felt a drop of malice from him like she had that first day, pinned under his terrifying gaze. But it still sent shivers down her spine to pretend to ignore being watched by a bloody dragon.

She hung her wet laundry and pulled down what was already dry, humming to herself a lullaby with long-forgotten words. It almost felt normal — the clear, blue sky under the warm, yellow sun. The breeze was perfect, the clothes and sheets swaying in it like a gentle dance. She could almost forget about the dragon and his rider if she _really_ concentrated. She could occasionally hear laughter rise up from the women back down river and smiled, sure they were now gossiping about Hal. But she didn't mind. So long as they were in good spirits.

He was sitting up again when she entered, his face turned towards the small window, only a piece of the sky visible beyond. He didn't acknowledge her presence, and she was fine with that. Conversation did not flow naturally between them. The time she spent in the room when she was not catering to him was often spent reading or sleeping. If they did talk, it was about his injuries.

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as she set the laundry basket down on the low table that had been pushed up against the wall, lately housing whatever Hal was using to occupy her time or medicine for the rider instead of actual meals. She kneeled down and began to fold the linens in silence, observing his contemplative expression. Since waking, he had not let Hal come near him to keep him clean, embarrassed most likely. He seemed obnoxiously proud, yet cared little for the state of his appearance. His hair was unkempt and greasy, his beard knotted. With each passing day, he looked more and more like a wild man, but Hal didn't feel comfortable telling him so, and she forced her face into a mask to avoid reacting as his smells grew worse.

His dark, grey eyes finally turned to her but he didn't speak. Sometimes he did that too, just like his dragon. Just watched her quietly. But unlike the creature, he did not seem to do it out of curiosity or even any sort of profound mistrust. It was like he was searching her face for someone else, and that was almost more unnerving. His very presence was unnerving and almost impossible to ignore.

"You seem to be the talk of the village," Hal blurted. She wasn't sure why she was speaking to him. He made it quite clear he wanted to be left alone. But if she didn't get him to talk, if he continued to sit there in a stirring silence, her hesitation around him would turn to fear, and she didn't want to give him that power over her. Despite his crimes, Murtagh Morzansson was still just a man. She would show him she was unafraid. She would heal his broken body and get him out as soon as possible. "Everyone keeps asking me about you."

"And what do you tell them?" His voice was deep enough to vibrate the air around him, putting her on edge. She could hear his caution, his weariness, and his sadness. But there was resolve there too, as though he were trying to keep as much emotion out of his tone as possible. However, Hal had spent just over half of her life around Denu, a man who had spent his entire life listening to the emotional tones and cues he couldn't see. While she was no expert like he, she could pick up even minor things people wished to keep hidden.

She cleared her throat, throwing up her shoulders in a casual shrug while she tried to find an appropriate response. "Not much, honestly. I've never been one for gossip."

"Then why tell me at all?"

He didn't seem angry, just genuinely puzzled as to what her objective had been. She didn't respond, unsure herself. "Just trying to make conversation, I suppose."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Don't be petulant," Hal snapped, forgetting herself for a moment. "If I can attempt to be cordial with the man who made threats against my people — empty or not — then you can attempt to hold a conversation with the woman who saved your life."

"You presume my threats are empty?"

"I said 'empty or not,'" she clarified in a haughty voice.

"Why make the distinction if you thought it was an actual threat?"

"So, you want me to believe you're more of an ass than I already think you are?"

To her surprise, he didn't have a quick whip for that. There was no point in getting herself worked up. Yet he kept finding his way under her skin and because they were strangers, Hal had no idea how to deal with the disruption to her life.

After regaining her composure and finishing with the laundry, she figured she may as well go about the rest of her duties, she stepped forward and gave him a tight, insincere smile, gesturing to him politely. "May I?"

He nodded stiffly, avoiding her gaze like he always did as she moved to kneel down beside him. Hal was no longer bothered by the fact that he stiffened when she touched him. Checking his injuries preoccupied her hands and her thoughts for a couple of minutes a few times each day. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead — she had soon realized that her proximity to him when she used her forehead made him uncomfortable — taking in his flushed cheeks and neck. His fever was constantly waxing and waning as of late — nothing, according to Mennes, that was cause for concern considering his condition. But Hal still sighed with frustration when he felt unnaturally warm to the touch, even in their hot climate.

"I may talk with Mennes about switching up the herbs we give you," she told him. "I really want you to break this fever. Perhaps something to help you sleep longer, giving your body more time to rest."

Murtagh didn't respond, but she didn't expect nor want him to. She was really talking to hear her thoughts out loud. However, when she undid some of his bandages, her face fell and she looked up, speaking to him directly. "You've been using magic," she said, her voice pinched with irritation. One of the cuts, thin but deep across his chest, was already beginning to turn pinkish, the skin pulling together in a feat that should have taken several more weeks. Even some of his bruising appeared fainter. How long? How had she not noticed? "Dammit, rider, no wonder you haven't been recovering properly."

"I've been doing a little bit at time so I don't overexert myself. I'm being cautious, and Thorn is helping me."

"Your body doesn't care about how careful you're being," she argued. "The magic you used to heal Thorn put you out for two weeks. _Two_! The fever is a sign that your body is still not ready for you to use so much magic. I know you're not stupid yet you're being intentionally reckless."

"Bold statement coming from a woman who threw herself off a cliff to save a stranger and nearly got herself eaten in the process."

Hal opened her mouth to argue and found herself choking on her words. Dammit. He was right. He appeared smug as she struggled to speak. "How did you —?"

"Thorn has shared what he could remember from that day. He saw your miraculous cliff-dive for himself."

Hal looked up from his healing wounds. "I had few options and even less time. _You're_ simply being impatient."

"Why do you care so much?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Why are you fighting me on this?" Hal countered with irritable disbelief.

"I asked you first."

It was such a childish response, but Hal, flustered, stumbled over her indignity and responded in kind. "I don't!"

He raised a brow, now challenging her answer. "You don't care about my well-being?"

She stared as if seeing him for the first time. "This is ridiculous," she breathed in disbelief that the conversation had so quickly spiraled into madness. " _You're_ being ridiculous," she added with an exasperated look in the rider's direction. She shook her head. Murtagh was watching her intently, his eyes steely and composed. "I don't want to see you overexert yourself like you did healing Thorn. That's all."

He sighed, looking away for a moment. "How very noble."

She bristled at the mocking sarcasm in his tone. "Call it what you will, but you know I'm right."

"Do I?"

"If not then I suppose you will continue to heal yourself regardless of my opinion," Hal said, leaning forward. She pressed her fingers lightly to his ribs, making note of what he had healed fully, healed some, and not been able to heal at all. She watched for how he flinched, listened to his sharp inhales of breath, and took her mental notes. Like it or not, everything he had started to heal seemed to be in order. At least, she figured, most of the immediate threats to his health, like risk of infection, or internal damage, were all but gone now, that she could see.

"Do I pass your test?" he asked.

"For now. But check your arrogance, rider. I've invested too much time in you; I'll not have you backsliding because of impatience and overconfidence."

She hadn't meant for her tone to come off so harsh. His gaze was almost defiant, a shadow passing across his face. But he must have read her no-nonsense as sincere because instead of arguing, he just gritted his teeth in silence.

She redressed the wounds that were still open and needing to heal. When she was done, she began gathering her supplies in her arms, setting them down on the table once more. She tried to focus on cleaning up the space, her back to him. But a headache was forming behind her eyes and her muscles were tightening up from stress. She told herself to hold her tongue. She was always getting in trouble for speaking out of turn. However, her anger and inability to repress it at the moment, won out and she spun on her heel with an accusatory finger already raised.

"Why can't you just say 'thank you' like a normal person?!" The rider stared, baffled by her sudden outburst. Now that she had started, Hal could feel the words spilling out of her mouth, an unstoppable force of pent up frustration. "I risked my life to save you and what have I got to show for it? A destroyed hut that could've killed a family that I deeply care about, little to no sleep for nearly three weeks, and a patient who argues with me about the semantics of threatening a village. Do you have _any_ idea the backlash I had to endure because of this? Mennes wouldn't even _touch_ you when he realized who you were and people talked to me like I was a fool and a traitor for saving _you_ of all people. Not to mention I'm lying to the villagers, telling them you mean us no harm and terrified that I am wrong about you and that you might make true on your word. I can't imagine the pain you must be in, but _I am not the cause of it_. You do not have to treat me like an idiot or leper!"

He could barely look at her, his jaw clenched so tightly that Hal thought he would break it. Once her rant was over, she didn't feel much better, just more frustrated. Even though he was staring at the wall to his left, Hal too turned her head, unable to look at him. She almost apologized then shook her head. She had nothing to be sorry for. Instead, she turned and picked up her laundry basket.

"I'll be back to bring you your lunch," she said in a low voice, still avoiding looking at him. Then she quickly left before she lost her resolve.

…

 _Do not say_ — Murtagh began.

 _I told you so_ , Thorn interrupted with a self-satisfied huff. _You're lucky she only gave you a verbal lashing. You deserve worse for your behavior. We both do._

 _They already think we're murderers and traitors, why should it matter if I hurt her feelings?_

 _We can keep our distance and still be cordial. The two are not mutually exclusive. Not to mention she was right. She has gone above and beyond to care for you, and we have yet to reciprocate in kind. Or even thank her. That does not sit well with me, and I know it does not sit well with you._

 _I owe her a debt and I will make sure it gets paid_ , Murtagh snapped defensively.

 _This is about more than settling a debt_ , Thorn chastised. _And I know you know better. Why are you so upset anyway?_

 _Because we shouldn't even be here_ , he responded with exasperation. _Honestly, Thorn, what are we even doing here?_

 _We were called here._

 _No, no, he told us to come here as if we didn't have a choice._

 _Of course we had a choice. He needed our help, who were we to turn him down?_

 _And look what it has gotten us!_

Thorn sighed, his irritation obvious. _You act as if Eragon intended for this to happen._

 _It wouldn't've happened if we were still up north._

 _We were miserable up north, and you know it. Besides, he insisted that this was urgent. I would like to do some good in this life while I am still able. You may be able to pretend complacency with the way things are, but I am growing restless._

Murtagh shook his head even though Thorn could not see him. _You're so bloody noble._

Thorn's voice was somber. _I'd rather be noble than a traitor._

Unable to come up with a response, Murtagh allowed himself to wallow in his dragon's profound sadness. It had been like this ever since Galbatorix was killed. Once Thorn was able to move past his transgressions and anger, he became annoyingly fixated on righting his wrongs. He and Murtagh went around and around on the topic. Murtagh wanted to stay clear of any major populations, and had been considering flying east, past the Hadarac Desert where the kingdom could not reach. Start anew and without having to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives, however long that may be.

Thorn, for some reason, had the opposite idea. He kept going on about duty and honor. He wanted to right their wrongs and forge a new life for them in Alagaësia. He wanted people to know that their actions had not been done of their own free will and hoped it would allow them, in due time, to find their own place here. He could feel it in the way his dragon's eyes lingered on the woman when she moved about, his warmth at her silent nods of respect. She was always doing such benign tasks, and yet Thorn was enthralled with the simplicity and innocence behind them. This village was a world that, in another life — if Galbatorix had gotten his way — Thorn would have never known. One of peace, with children laughing, and families jesting with one another.

But Murtagh knew better, and had spent the better part of the last five years stalling and finding ways to change the topic of conversation when Thorn brought it up. Murtagh knew a life before he was Galbatorix's right hand. And that life labeled him as nothing more than Morzan's son. They were damned either way, Thorn just didn't know it yet. And Murtagh didn't have the heart to dissuade such innocent hope in his only companion. Didn't want Thorn to mistakenly think they were welcomed here by any means.

 _Maybe someday_ , Murtagh finally said. But even then, he felt guilty for lying.


	7. Chapter 7: Shadows in the Night

Hal woke up covered in a thin layer of sweat, restless and uneasy from a dream she couldn't remember. The room felt uncomfortably hot, a sign of the growing summer months. Even though it was warm year-round, the high levels of humidity grew worse during this time of year. She stretched, annoyed that she had wasted good water bathing and already felt gross.

She turned so that the soles of her feet were planted on the cool, dirt ground, rolling her shoulders to loosen them up. She probably could've returned to her cot by now. Especially after sounding off on the rider the way she had. Yet she had resounded herself to the bench once more, irritated that she still felt some level of responsibility to his well-being. Irritated that she was still concerned that he could still take a turn for the worse if she got too lax in her care.

Her eyes darted over to where he slept, and she was happy that he was at least sleeping through the nights more and more. No more waking her up in a pain or feverish frenzy. The first two weeks had been hellish. And one night, he had been so horrible that she had dreadfully wished he would just die and put them both out of such misery. And then the dragon had crooned so sadly — and Hal had forgotten that someone was dependent on this man's survival — that she had hardly left his side since. Not to mention how guilty she had felt for such a horrible thought, despite his crimes.

She padded carefully around the hut, not wanting to wake anyone. She refilled the bowl she kept for the rider with cool water from the river that ran behind the hut, using it to place a cool rag on his forehead so that he didn't overheat in the night.

Hal couldn't help but admire her handiwork. Just a few short weeks ago, he had been near death, pale as the sheets she washed, his skin burning from fevers that seemed to appear faster than she could catch, and wounds that no one should've been able to survive. And while part of his recovery was due to his use of magic, she still took credit for the color in his cheeks and his smooth, even breaths. She had never had to operate on anyone to the extent that she had with him, and hoped she never would again. But she was proud of saving this man's life, even if he was ungrateful for it.

Awake for an undetermined amount of time, Hal strode to the window in the hopes of catching a cool breeze. She planted her elbows on the sill, resting her chin in her hand as she gazed out into the small array of huts, staring at what remained of the hut Thorn had destroyed. They hadn't yet been able to start rebuilding as they continued to salvage what items and possessions they could before it was all cleared away, but there were talks that they hoped to start soon. It would take months to accomplish though, just as Tena had claimed, and it was a grueling process.

Hal blinked just as some dark shadow seemed to move just out of her peripheral vision. She jumped back in surprise, confused if she had seen anything at all. But she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her instincts kicking in. She hurried and grabbed the dagger she slept with under her pillow, feeling comforted by the cool handle in her palm. She returned to the window, this time standing just out of sight, peering out with trepidation and concern.

Everything seemed normal. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if it was a lovuk. They had been increasingly active the last few months, unusually so. They typically stayed away from the villages on the island, but even the neighboring one several miles south had contacted them with the same concerns. Something was wrong on her island, that much she knew. However, she had been unable to presume her search since rescuing the rider.

"What's wrong?"

Hal hated to say it, but she almost screamed in surprise. And she was hardly ever surprised. But the rider had made no noise, and she had been so focused on what may or may not have been outside that she didn't even realize his breathing had shifted. She spun around, tightening her grip on her weapon with one hand and backing away, clutching her chest in surprise until her mind forced her body to calm down.

Annoyed at being caught off guard, Hal shot him a dark look that he probably couldn't see in the shadows. But she hoped he felt it anyway. When she had relaxed, she lowered both arms and returned to her spot by the window. "It's nothing…just a feeling."

"Must be a strong feeling if it's got you and Thorn worked up."

She looked at him with surprise, forgetting her momentary anger. "Thorn saw it?"

"Saw what? No, he just said he sensed something was off, woke me up when he heard you moving around. What did you see?"

Hal looked back out the window. "I don't know. A shadow, perhaps. It moved quickly, I'm not even sure I saw anything. But we've been having issues with lovuk lately, I wasn't sure…"

"Lovuk?"

"They're like giant wolves. But their fur is brown, shorter. And they're fast. Dangerously so. When I brought you here my biggest fear was that the smell of blood would bring them out. I'm still surprised it didn't, although I certainly don't wish for such a nuisance."

"And what kind of issues have they been causing?"

She looked back at the rider, unsure why she felt such unease at his line of questioning. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

If her curt response bothered him, he didn't say so. Instead he said, "Thank you for the cool rag."

For some reason, that embarrassed her. She swallowed her nerves, refusing to look at him. "It's a hot night. We need to make sure it doesn't affect your overall health."

"Of course."

The silence that fell between them became tense. His voice had been polite, surprised even, by her gesture. She wasn't sure if he was just incapable of saying 'thank you' but his tone was the closest she would get to such formalities.

"If you sleep with the dagger because of me, I understand. But despite my earlier outburst, I have no intention of harming you or your village. I spoke crassly and inhumanely. But the fact remains that you saved my life. I wouldn't do you or your people such a disservice, and I shouldn't have implied that I would."

Now she turned to look at him, surprised by such a pretty speech. His voice seemed sincere, and his gaze held hers to make sure that she would not doubt him or his words. She looked back out, gazing up at the starry night. "I do not sleep with this dagger because of you. I've always slept with it. But your words mean much to hear."

She saw his shoulders relax some out of the corner of her eyes and she felt her posture loosen in kind. They didn't talk again, and the rider soon drifted back to sleep. Hal maintained her spot against the wall, split between watching him and watching out for whatever had been moving around outside. But after the rider's comment about Thorn sensing something, she felt a bit more at ease. But she didn't move, didn't return to her spot on the bench, until first light finally broke whatever trepidation the dark night had held over her.

…

"Do it."

"No, you do it."

"Go on, Layla, you do it!"

Murtagh opened a bleary eye, disgruntled after being woken from an already fitful sleep. But he paused when he saw three young girls peering at him from the window. They shrieked in surprise at being caught, ducking down out of his line of sight in a fit of giggles. Suddenly anxious, Murtagh carefully sat up, the rag Hal had placed on his forehead falling into his lap, growing stiff with dryness. Halen had been gone a while, it seemed. One girl stood straight once more, gripping the edge of the window to keep herself up high enough to see inside.

"Layla, is he still staring?" Another girl asked, struggling to lift her head back up over the wall. From what he could tell, she couldn't have been older than five.

"Shhh, he'll hear you," the girl, he presumed Layla, said quickly.

Now Murtagh raised his brow, unsure of what to say or do. So he did nothing as they whispered in hushed voices, debating who would talk to him first.

"This was _your_ idea, Layla," said a slightly older, more authoritative voice. "Hurry, before Hal comes back and we get into trouble!"

"Fine, you big babies."

A pair of wide, brown eyes caught his gaze. The girl looked to be about seven or so, but she boldly clamored up until she was holding her body up by resting her forearms on the dirt sill. "Hi," she chimed in, appearing more self-assured than she had moments before.

"…Hello?" he said slowly, wary of how hard his voice sounded in the presence of a child.

She blinked, staring at him with a slight tilt of her head that, strangely enough, reminded him of Halen. She got the same inquisitive look when she was studying him, as if trying to read him. "You don't look scary," the girl said.

"Doesn't mean I'm not."

"Hal says you're not scary. But Hal's not scared of anything."

He could hear the affection in the girl's voice. "Is Halen your older sister?"

"I wish. I only have a dumb older brother instead." She readjusted herself on the sill then stared at him with determination. "Hal says you can't do anymore magic after you healed your dragon. Did you use it all up?"

He found his lips twitching at the question. "No, but it makes me very weak to use it right now."

"Then you have to wait until you're stronger?"

"Yes, exactly."

She seemed to ponder this for a moment. "So how strong are you then?"

His expression became tight. "Not as strong as I used to be."

"Is that when you served the evil king?" He gave her such a surprised expression, but she only shrugged. "The adults here talk a lot."

So it would seem. "I'm sure the adults wouldn't like you talking to me."

"You talk to Hal."

"Hal's an adult." And he wouldn't exactly call what they had "talking."

She pouted, stumped. "She's already brainwashed you."

"I told you she would," said one of the other girls in a not-so-hushed tone.

"Brainwashed me?"

"She never lets us do anything because she says we're too young."

"And yet you still have nasty habit of going behind my back anyway."

Even Murtagh jumped in surprise as the girls looked behind them. He couldn't see Halen, but they let out a collective gasp of surprise before screaming, running off before Halen could physically catch them. Yet, when she appeared in the window, she didn't seem upset. On the contrary, she looked positively radiant compared to last night. She rested her chin in her hand, her expression soft as she gazed at him. "They didn't wake you, did they?"

"No," he lied. He hesitated, then decided to go for it. "You seem to be in a good mood."

"How perceptive of you," she said. "I went for a ride this morning, needed to clear my head. Found the perfect herd of wild boar for Thorn which he is currently hunting." Murtagh watched, confused and amused, as she began to climb through the window, rather than break up her spiel by going through a perfectly good door. "He's absolutely stunning rider. I can't believe I didn't notice it before, but absolutely beautiful. Anyway…" She dropped down, then turned back out the window and picked up a basket of various fruits and berries. "I picked these while I was out. Perfectly ripe. It's like the heavens knew I needed this."

She certainly was animated, and it cast a completely different aura around her. She seemed less closed-off, lighter. But he could still see the bags under her eyes and knew that she hadn't slept through the night.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, setting the basket down on the table. "Would you like some?"

"Yes, thank you."

She paused, looking at him in surprise. She opened her mouth then seemed to think better of whatever it was she was going to say. Instead, she gave him a soft smile and said, "You're welcome."

She let him eat in peace after giving him leftover bread from earlier. However, because he was healing well, she had thrown in a few pieces of bacon which he devoured on sight. Finally, real meat. She had been cautious, rightly so, serving him nothing but soft foods that would easily be digested. But as he regained his strength, he needed something with sustenance. He hoped there would be more to come by lunch and supper.

By the time Halen reappeared, she had cleaned up and changed out of the fitted trousers and tunic, and into her usual attire of loosely fitted, ankle-length skirts. She grabbed a pear out of the basket and bit into it, dropping down across from him with obvious exhaustion. "Are your wounds almost healed," she said, swallowing, gesturing to his torso with her head.

"Almost. The worst is behind me, but I'm trying to take it easy so that I don't overdo it," he avoided looking at her, but could already imagine her self-satisfied smirk. "Should be a few more days now, and you'll find yourself with one less burden."

She snorted. "You're not a burden, rider. An ass, perhaps. But it's not like you asked for this, and I made a choice to help."

"And it's as simple as that?"

"Why does it have to be difficult?" Then she tilted her head like she always did, and he knew without a doubt that the girl in the window from before was mimicking Halen's mannerisms. "Because of who you are?" When he didn't respond, she took that as affirmation and she took another bit of her fruit, chewing thoughtfully. "I wouldn't be so full of yourself, rider. You're not that important."

"And you think I'm the ass?"

"Without a doubt," she replied calmly, not firing back at him like he expected. "Because your inflated sense of self has still refused to actually thank me for saving your life and caring for you these past few weeks, and yet you equate yourself to being my personal burden when I knew full well what saving your life would entail. I knew exactly what I was doing and you have no right to suggest otherwise, intentionally or not."

"I was trying to be empathetic. I can see how tired you are and I know how much you have done for me."

"Then. Just. Say. So. Instead of trying to empathize by indulging in self-deprecating speech."

He realized what she was doing, and he was regretting ever engaging her in conversation. She raised her brows at him, and he gritted his teeth, realizing that she would get what she wanted either way. He would either prove her right by refusing to thank her, or she would get his forced gratitude. And the thought of her being proven right made his skin itch.

"Thank you," he said, his voice tight.

"Are you even human?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"You're the one being stubborn about a simple 'thank you.' Did you rather I leave you to die?" When he didn't respond, she simply shook her head, rising to her feet. "You have issues, rider, that much is certain. Keep your 'thanks,' I don't need it. And it certainly does me no good if I have to force it out of you. I didn't do this for your appreciation, so I suppose it is futile of me to demand it. And for that, I apologize."

Her departure was swift, her eyes cold. His satisfaction was short-lived, however, with the emptiness she left behind. She hadn't been wrong about him, and that's what had caused him to act so harshly towards her. She told him things that he knew, but didn't want to hear. And he resented her for it. Especially since she apparently had assessed such truths in a matter of mere weeks, watching him and studying the tones he used when he spoke, which unnerved and impressed him.

There was a soft knock on the door and Murtagh turned his head in surprise as the old man, Denu, appeared in the room. The man never came to visit him.

"Do you mind if I enter?"

Murtagh sighed, not wanting the company at the moment. "It's your hut, do as you see fit."

The man mumbled his thanks, closing the door behind him. When he straightened up, he said, "Halen seemed to be in another foul mood so I figured I would come and check on you."

Murtagh didn't respond to the man's attempt at humor.

Denu sighed, hesitating for just a moment before taking a seat on the bench where Halen usually slept. "I know it's not my place to defend her. Oftentimes if someone is cross with Halen, it is because she is a little too blunt at times. I doubt she is any different with you."

He still didn't speak, but he also couldn't help but listen.

"But I think my transgressions towards you have reflected poorly on her. And so, I humbly come to you to clarify: at no point has Halen bore you ill will because of your past. The conversation you overheard, my comment about the villages, those were my opinions only. Halen has been quite protective of you, and she has received much grief for it."

"I doubt she would want you here fighting her battles for her," Murtagh chastised, hoping it would signal to the man that he did not wish to continue this conversation.

"And you would be right. But I am here regardless to ask that you do not taking your frustrations out on the one person who is actually trying to be on your side in all of this." Murtagh's jaw tightened. "Acknowledging all she has done for you would not hurt either."

When Murtagh didn't immediately respond, Denu nodded his head as if he had said all he had come in to say. "She means well. Truly, rider. Just…if you two speak again, try and give her the benefit of the doubt."

"I will if she does."

At that, Denu chuckled. "Fair enough."


	8. Chapter 8: Hunters and Hunted

"Slacking from your duties again, are we?"

"Buzz off," Hal snapped, not looking up from her book to properly address the two figures below. She had perched herself in the branches of her favorite tree so as to not be bothered, but should've known those who knew her best would be able to find her eventually. She recognized the voice of Eli and figured Cado, his best friend, was with him. They almost always traveled together. "I'm busy."

"Oh, come now, don't get fussy with us because you got into it with the dragon rider."

The book fell into her lap as she rolled her eyes. "Does that old man _ever_ keep his mouth _shut_."

"Not when it comes to you, but you already knew that," Cado teased. "Now come down, we have just the thing to cheer you up."

"A new book?"

"No."

"The arrowheads you owe me?"

"Also, no," Eli chimed in, scratching his head.

"Are you going to leave me alone?"

"Ouch, that hurts us, Hal."

"Your list is growing very short very fast. What is it then?"

"The team is getting together, going hunting in the morning before we have to help Amon rebuild his hut. He wanted to get out one last time since he'll be otherwise preoccupied the next few months. Figured you would want in."

Her shoulders crumpled. While that did sound appealing, she already knew she would have to sit this one out. "I have to watch the rider, you both know this already."

"Come on, Hal!" Cado cried, disbelieving as she turned down what they knew was a very tempting offer. "Denu says he's practically healed himself. You deserve to take a break. Come with us."

"You know I could if I would, but I'll have to pass this time. What are you planning on hunting anyway?"

"Not sure yet." Eli grinned. "Probably whatever attacks us first."

"You are nothing, if not consistent."

"We try."

"Are you sure you can't come?" Cado repeated. "We could really use the village's fastest archer on our side."

She smiled. "Flattery, huh? You must be desperate." But her smile was kind as she said, "Thank you. But maybe next time."

She felt bad for it, but their disappointment brought her some happiness. Sometimes she had a hard time separating when her company was requested, not out of pity, but of genuine interest. Even though Eli, Cado, and the other men she hunted with — Amon, Sam, and Ayo — had more than proven their friendship, she still couldn't help but be reminded that she was not always the best company. Something she consistently and bitterly remembered after her interactions with the rider.

She hated that he made her like this: anxious and self-conscious. He had a way of making her feel foolish that easily got under her skin. Probably because he was miserable with his own existence. And Hal, more than anyone, knew misery loved company.

She sighed.

Perhaps that's why his attitude affected her so. It was familiar, a reminder of her own struggles. She didn't think she was projecting too much as she began to recognize her own biting sarcasm, clipped tone, and mistrust in the rider's attitude towards her. Dammit, no wonder she disliked the man so much. Had she been that ungrateful to Denu when she was in the rider's position? But she already knew the shameful answer to that question.

She returned to her book of sketches, flipping to the back where she had once begun an attempt to draw the Nïdhwal. But she hadn't had the time to put her memories to paper, and since she was abandoning her duties for the time being, she figured she might as well finish her sketch before she couldn't remember anything at all.

Her mind was consumed with recalling if the creature had had a scaly hide or a smooth one. She let her worries of the rider and the judgement from the villagers fall by the wayside, her mind intimately consumed with getting each detail just right. Although reminding herself of the sharp rows of teeth and the speed with which the creature moved in the water was still frightening in its own right, Hal still felt a sense of comfort and ease as her quill moved the ink across the page.

When she was satisfied with her sketch for the time being, she left her book laying open, the pages held down by heavy, smooth stones so that the ink may dry. She leaned back against the tree trunk, catching glimpses of the blue sky through the thick, green leaves. She closed her eyes, listening to the wind rustle the trees, letting the sounds lull her to place of relaxation. In fact, she may have dozed off. But her heart dropped when she heard a ferocious roar in the not-so-distance.

It was unmistakably Thorn, and she swore before grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows, propped up on the branch beside her, and slung them over her shoulder. She dropped to the ground, bracing her joints for the impact before taking off at a high speed to the direction of the noise. She wasn't dressed appropriately for any kind of confrontation, her skirt twisting around her legs in a manner that was a hindrance. Hal eventually had to hold it up to keep it from getting tangled in low branches and thorns. But at least she had worn her boots.

She heard the unmistakable howl of a lovuk and slid to a stop. Shit. She couldn't run in blindly then, especially on the ground and on foot. She would have to rethink her approach. She continued forward, but she ran perpendicular to the wind so that it didn't carry her scent. It took longer, but eventually she found the clearing and the most unfortunate situation that Thorn found himself in.

He was surrounded by a number of lovuk that made Hal's eyes widen in a panic. She had never seen this many at once. The hunting party usually only traveled in packs of no more than three or four at a time. There had to be a dozen or so now, surrounding Thorn with their bloodthirsty teeth bared. Hal felt her hands begin to shake. This was bad. She had assumed it was one. Even three or four were not completely out of her comfort zone, but that was only when she wasn't on her own. But this…this was not natural, and she was quickly reminded that they had not been acting normal for quite some time.

She had to act quickly, and turned to run back to the village and alert the others, to seek help before she did something reckless again. But she took one step and froze as the wind suddenly changed directions. She could hear the lovuk freeze, the growls growing short as they sniffed the air

Hal only had a moment to act, but a quick scan of her surroundings proved futile. The trees here were too weak to climb, and any sudden pressure provided by her or the creatures would surely cause them to snap.

Shit.

Heart racing, Hal took off running just as the lovuk snapped their jaws, realizing that easier prey was trying to get away. She didn't run back the way she had come, not wanting to lead such a devastatingly large pack towards the village. Thorn seemed to use the opportunity to pounce, roaring viciously and, from the sound of it, taking out a few before they all came after her. She could feel some gaining on her, using her vast knowledge of how fast they ran, how fast she ran, and how much distance she could potentially cover before they ensnared her.

She spotted her opportunity up ahead, and grabbed two arrows and her bow, loading one and placing the other between her teeth. The time it would take for her to stop and turn around would be precious seconds lost. But if she used their speed and her own against them…

Hal braced herself as she jumped forward, planting the soles of her boots on the tree trunk. She took another step, using her momentum to carry her up, scaling the trunk of the tree. Just like that, the world was upside down, and Hal draw her arrow back quickly as the lovuk ran under her, attempting to use the tree as she had, as a jumping off point. But she was ready for it, and fired into the top of its skull before it could counterattack, and the beast dropped dead.

Then, she landed on her feet and spun, around as she loaded the second arrow, hitting the other lovuk, with precision, in its eye moments before it would have reached her. It let out a single yelp of pain before it too met the same fate as its friend. Not wanting to waste time, Hal drew another arrow just as movement from her left caught her attention. She didn't even turn; she held her bow off the side and fired, barely moving her gaze as she felled another. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she just needed to stay one step ahead.

However, she thought too quickly when four more appeared before her at once. Her movements were sharp and precise, but this was too much, even for her level of skill. She managed to drop two, but the remaining two left no time for her to draw her arrow back. And even if she could block one, it left her exposed to the other.

She randomly picked one and prepared to fire, choosing to at least take down one more before she herself was subdued. Then, a bright light coming from behind the lovuk captured her attention. And when she realized what it was, all she could do was curl up to make herself smaller. She didn't know what worse, getting burned to death or being eaten alive.

But the flames never reached her. She heard a man shout as one arm was thrown around her shoulders, and she only had a moment to realize it was Murtagh pulling her into his chest. His hand was raised, his palm glowing red. Where the fire should've smoked them, it seemed to hit an invisible shield, spreading up and out, but never continuing forward. The lovuk, however, didn't stand a chance at such high temperatures. They were burnt damn-near to ashes, and Hal watched in both horror and awe as the fire and magic dissipated.

Murtagh fell forward, Hal unexpectedly bearing the brunt of his sudden dead weight. She yelped in surprise as she fell back, the rider splayed on top of her. His breathing was labored, and she could feel his body shaking from such exertion before he had reached his full strength. Hal was about to chastise him for getting out of bed before he was ready when she realized that he and Thorn had just saved her life in a most fantastic manner. She didn't know whether to thank him first or ask if he was okay. She herself was still in shock as the last few moments caught up to her. Such raw power, and in the condition he was in — what was he capable of at full capacity?

She gazed at the sky, waiting for her heartbeat to slow, feeling as it fell in sync with the rider's. She gently rolled him off her as Thorn approached, standing watch protectively as Hal did a quick examination of Murtagh's physical appearance. Considering his clothes had been thrown out, she decided not to question the ill-fitted tunic and trousers that she knew she had just set on the clothes line to dry, as she lifted the material to expose his chest. The bruising along his side had gone dark again, and she recalled that his side had not yet fully healed. That would explain his hoarse breathing as well. He could still have a broken rib or two, and the exertion he had just put on it to get here.

She shook her head at the unconscious figure. "What in the heavens am I to do with you?"

…

Murtagh woke to a warm, gentle caress on his cheek. A soothing breeze, lightly pulling him from sleep. He blinked once. Twice. There was no compact ceiling overhead like he had become accustomed to. Instead, he stared at the full sky for the first time in weeks. He inhaled, then winced at the sharp pain in his side from where he had greatly re-injured his already broken ribs.

He turned just his head and saw Thorn snoozing on the grass as well. But when he felt Murtagh's consciousness, he peeked open a tired, red eye. _How are you feeling?_

 _Been better. Been a lot worse. I'll be fine. And you?_

 _Been better. Been a lot worse. But I owe my lack of severe injuries to the young maiden. Although I hate it almost cost her life, she came to my aid._

Murtagh blinked, having completely forgotten about Halen, and turned, unsure of where she had gone or what she was doing if he was still in the woods. But he needn't worry. The second he turned to his other side, she was right there. She was curled up on her side, facing him, a book lying closed on the ground beside her that she must've been reading before she fell asleep. An open bag and her arrows lay at her feet.

The sight gave him pause. Her hair had begun to fall out of her braid, the loose strands dancing in the wind before settling against her cheeks when it was calm. Her face was one of peace, her brows and mouth relaxed. Her breathing was smooth and even. Surprisingly calm and collected for someone who had just been attacked by a pack of predators.

 _She had been reading the same sentence over and over again for nearly twenty minutes before she finally fell asleep. I don't think she wanted to wake you, and I did not want to wake her._

No, Murtagh had no desire to wake her either. Exhausted and sore, he gingerly laid back down, his hands resting on top of his stomach. Whether she sensed his movements or it was something else altogether, Halen began to stir. He could tell she was fighting it, and he watched her, bemused, as she slowly opened her tired eyes, her gaze barely registering how close they were.

"Oh good," she said with sigh, closing her eyes, "you're not dead."

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." But to his surprise, he wasn't angry. In fact, her deadpanned tone was rather humorous considering the circumstances. Besides, he knew that she had stayed meant she had still been looking out for him. "Go back to sleep."

Her eyes struggled to stay open. "We should head back…"

The fact that her first thought upon waking had been for his state of being… She had earned this. Deserved this small reprieve.

"Go to sleep, Halen. I will wake you before it gets too late."

Her eyes lingered on his for only a moment, and her gratefulness was unhindered as she did exactly as he instructed.


	9. Chapter 9: Drawing Conclusions

The rider kept his word, waking her with a few hours left until sun down. Hal unfurled slowly, stretching her taut muscles with a lazy delight. Although that was merely a nap compared to the sleep she truly craved, it had been so…nice. The beautiful day, the cool grass under her. She had been under the mercy of nature itself, and she had gladly caved to its very whims and taunts. She had slept soundly, and she felt like she had more energy than she had in a while.

She arched her back, hearing it pop. She raised her arms, twisted at the hips before her eyes just managed to catch the rider watching her before he looked away. That's right, she had almost forgotten. She looked away as well, pulling her hair from its frazzled braid to re-do it. The twine lay in her lap as she ran her fingers through her curls, gathering the hair in her hands before she set about braiding it.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. "For saving my life."

"Think nothing of it," he responded quickly. "Besides, it was the least I could do…considering."

"It wasn't nothing," she challenged softly, rather insulted by his dismissive nature.

"I didn't mean…" Hal glanced over at him, seeing the frustration in his eyes as he stared out at the nothingness that stretched out before them. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

He looked like he'd rather not say, but Hal kept her eyes trained on him until he caved under her scrutinizing gaze. "I don't deserve your thanks, is all."

She pondered his words carefully, unsure of which conclusion felt the most accurate. So, she tried them both. "Because I saved your life so this merely makes us even or…because of your past."

He flinched at that, and she looked away again, becoming uncomfortable with the reminder that, for all intents and purposes, he was not a good person. She had more or less managed to keep that detail crammed into the back of her mind, not quite forgotten, but easily dismissed.

Hal sighed. "I can't tell you how to feel. But I am grateful to you and Thorn regardless. Accept it or don't, but it is there." She rose to her feet, checking the ground as she said, "We should also head back before it gets too late." She frowned. Where was her book? "Have you seen a —?"

"Looking for this?"

She turned to find her small book of sketches in his lap, his hand holding open the pages where she had sketched a small, rare bird several months ago. She felt several emotions at once, but the strongest one was extreme mortification. No one knew about her sketches except Denu, who couldn't even see them. She had kept them to herself, a hobby that sometimes felt more like an obsession. She loved tracking creatures, but the pure joy she felt studying them, and other wildlife on the island, was not something she could put into words. But it was there, in her sketches. Almost like a diary, as she poured hours of herself into carefully crafting each detail. Studying their movements and how they lived. He must think her mad.

She lunged for the book, confident she could overpower him, forgetting about his ribs. But to her surprise, he threw his arm up, holding the book just out of her reach as she collided into his chest. "Give it back!"

"I'm not done looking at it yet."

"Yes. You. Are."

He kept twisting and turning, moving beyond her reach with a noticeable indifference on his face. Suddenly his hand shot out and Hal was stunned when he used it to cover her entire face, boldly stopping her in tracks. His grip wasn't remotely threatening, but the audacity was enough to make her blood boil. Her voice came out muffled when she spoke.

"You kiss Denu with that mouth?" he asked humorlessly.

She swatted his hand away. "Go to hell. And did you heal your ribs while I was asleep?"

"I'm glad your concern came after you clamored on top of me."

Hal sat back, unamused as she watched him carefully read her notes. His fingers ran over her sketches and she clenched the material of her skirt. "I assume you did all of this," Murtagh commented, looking up at her briefly.

She nodded.

"How long does it take you?"

She blinked, unsure of why he was asking and unsure if she wanted to answer. But she forced herself to relax, hoping if she played along, she would get her book back sooner. "It depends on what I'm sketching. Obviously, plant-life can be a few hours, not including my notes of course. Animals and insects can take upwards of years, depending on whether they migrate so I can only track them during particular times of the year or if they're just rare and harder to find. I observe everything for several years though, studying their habitats and mannerisms for a more thorough understanding before making my final notes."

"Did someone teach you?"

She shook her head. "Just practiced. Some of my earlier sketches are quite horrendous. I've managed to re-do a few in my spare time."

"Earlier…" He looked at the beginning of the book and noticed how well done her sketches already were and reached the appropriate conclusion. "You have more books."

"Forty in all, about 100 pages each."

His brows rose. "You've captured 4,000 pages of the wildlife on this island?"

"I dream of one day going to the mainland, to see some of the creatures that may exist there. I think I've captured all I can by now here on Illium." Her eyes flickered quickly to Thorn, but she didn't dare broach the subject of sketching the dragon. She wasn't sure how they would react.

"Why don't you just go?"

"Oh, and I suppose it's just that easy?"

"Why does it have to be difficult?"

It was more than she was willing to say. She got back to her feet and gave the rider a sad smile. "We should head back, get you something to eat so you can continue to rest."

If he was disappointed or annoyed by her response, he didn't say. He nodded politely and followed her lead, but said, "Do you mind if I hang on to this for a little bit longer. I like looking at your drawings."

She blushed, unable to form a coherent response. Hal eventually caved and nodded her head, unable to meet his gaze as she turned, leading them back to the village in silence. For the rest of the night, whenever Hal glanced over at the rider, he was buried in his reading of her notes. Even as he ate or as she did a once-over of his recently-healed injuries, he didn't look up from the book.

"Where did you learn to track?"

The question surprised her as she cleaned up the area around them, trying to discard some of the old medicines, bandages, and put dirty linens in the basket. Hal looked up from her work and, after registering his question, continued moving around the room. "I started young. My father taught me. Then Denu, when he took me in, and then some friends of mine after him."

The silence was heavy, and she knew what question he wanted to ask next. But he must've noticed how she avoided his gaze, her body tight with dread, until he said, "Denu tracks?"

She breathed, quietly relieved. "He's very good, actually. You've seen a bit for yourself already, how keen his listening is. While I may never be as good, he's taught me much of what he knows. How to rely on senses other than sight."

Murtagh continued flipping through her book when he suddenly stopped, brows furrowing in confusion. Hal walked over to him and kneeled down beside him to see what he was looking at. "Oh, the print. I was actually tracking that when I found you and Thorn. You're lucky I'm as good as I am, any slower and you'd both be dead."

"What do you mean?"

"Thorn's prints of course. You certainly didn't make it easy on me, but I did manage to find you."

Murtagh look pained and confused. "This isn't Thorn's print."

Hal blinked. "Of course, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"I think I know my dragon's print."

Hal felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she snatched the book back, swallowing past the lump in her throat as she stared at the image, committing it to memory. She had not thought to look at Thorn's prints…she had just assumed. "But…if this isn't Thorn's then —"

His face was grave. "Then there's something else on the island."

...

"I'm telling you, we need to seriously consider sending out a search party," Hal argued, trying her best not to raise her voice. But although it had not taken much to convince Denu of her concerns, the rest of the village leaders were another story. Especially Tengene.

"And I'm telling _you_ that this is none of your concern," the man in question fired back, his eyes cold. He was only a few years younger than Denu, but stood several inches taller than most of the men in the village, skinny and frail in his old age. He was completely bald, his face free of any facial hair, making his harsh expressions that much sharper. "You have already wrought enough damage bringing that beast to our village."

"You're so backwards," Hal spat, her patience running thin. "I tell you that a heard of lovuk were only a few miles away from the village you claim so desperately to want to protect and you're more worried about the dragon who kept them off our soils!"

"Please, let's not fight about this," chastised Hondo, Sarah's husband and one who was usually like Denu, more moderate and patient about hearing Hal out when she came to them with various concerns and quips. "Hal, please do try to remember your place. And Tengene, Hal has not once led us astray when it comes to matters of village safety. If it wasn't for her, we would've flooded last year, and our crops would've died the year before. She deserves to be heard. Listen."

The man bristled with fury, but Hal was grateful for the support. It was not common for women to address the village leaders, all of whom were men, unless it was a life or death situation. And since that did not happen a lot except for what Hal brought to their attention, she was sure they were simply sick of seeing her at this point.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. She rotated her shoulders, trying to relax her tight muscles. The sun was high in the sky, and the inside of the hut where they were meeting felt stifling. Often reserved for important meetings and ceremonies, the structure was made up of wooden beams carefully dug into the earth to maintain their upright position. Rather than walls, there were reed mats, carefully woven and decorated with various images, the ocean, animals, and religious symbols, that hung from the ceiling to the floor. The ceiling was made up of straw, tightly tied together. On occasion, a bad storm would pass through — like last year as Hondo had referenced where they risked flooding from the river — and damage the ceiling, but the mats were always taken down during those times and preserved. They had hung there for centuries. But now, the entire place felt unwelcoming as Hal stood before the seven men that decided the fate of the village on important matters. Seven men who sat before her on the stage with various expressions of wariness and concern at her news.

"I have reason to believe that something is disrupting the usual patterns and nature of the lovuk," Hal continued, looking each man in the eye as she spoke. "We've lived amongst them for years and they've never come this close to the village with such violent intent. And certainly not in the numbers I saw yesterday." She didn't mention the giant print she had found. Didn't dare bring up something she knew would be met so dismissively unless they saw it for themselves, which they would never do. Or, like her, they would wrongly simply assume it to be Thorn's. She knew these men, even liked some of them, but they were…she was still just a woman. A hot-tempered, young, and unmarried woman at that.

"And you are proposing we send good men to go after these creatures, to wander into something potentially life-threatening?" Chijioke challenged firmly, his voice rather unsteady. He was the youngest of the group, only in his mid-thirties. He had taken over after his father passed a few months ago.

"I would of course go with them."

"Absolutely not," Denu said quickly.

"I can't ask others to do something I'm not willing to do myself," Hal argued. "Besides, I'm the best tracker we've got, I can tell the party where to look and what to look for."

"You're not going, Halen."

"And neither is anyone else for that matter," Ibrahim chimed in, jerking as if suddenly waking up from having dozed off. Hal rolled her eyes. "There are too many unknown variables, we can't ask people to run into something we know nothing about."

"We will continue to know nothing if we sit around and wait for the lovuk, or potentially something worse, to come to us."

"I'm sorry, Halen," Hondo said, his thick, grey eyebrows furrowing in sadness at her pained expression. "We do not have the resources to expand on such an endeavor. Not when we need all hands in the fields."

"So we do nothing, then?" Her voice was full of contempt.

"We wait," Denu said, a warning in his tone to remind her to check her rage. "We wait until we know more."

Disgusted, Hal turned on her heel with a derisive snort. "You're all idiots."

They shouted after her, furious, but Hal took off running, already forming a plan of her own. When she reached the hut, she barged through the door of the dining space and paused as the rider turned to look at her. "Heavens, I forgot you were here," she mumbled, angry that she didn't think to just go to her room instead. But she's lived and breathed the dining space for so long, running to it was practically second nature now.

"Words a person always hopes to hear," he muttered dryly. "I'm well aware this isn't my home, but a warning would be nice before you come barging in. I could've been indecent."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she said dismissively. His eyes went wide with surprise and she rolled her eyes. "It's not that serious."

"Speak for yourself." He observed her carefully. "I take it they didn't take it well."

"They're all idiots," she snapped, as if needing just a single excuse to vent to someone. "Even Denu dismissed my idea. What's happening on this island isn't _normal_ but apparently I'm the only one who has noticed or even cares!"

"Perhaps things aren't as bad as you think them to be."

Hal was already shaking her head, staring out the window and recalling the night where she had sensed something in the shadows. "This isn't right. They've lived such sheltered lives here so of course they wouldn't think anything is wrong. But my gut has never let me down. Something's wrong, I know it."

Hal crossed her arms over her chest and turned to find the rider staring at her, his grey eyes focused and unnerving. "What?" she challenged.

He shook his head. "Nothing at all. Only that…I think the old men may be right about this."

She gawked in disbelief. "You said yourself it wasn't Thorn's print. And he sensed something that night, you _said_ so."

"I'm not invalidating any of your evidence — I think it's sound and cause for concern."

She fidgeted. "But."

" _But_ , I think the right thing to do right now is wait. Especially you — don't go rushing off into danger because you think it's now up to you to do this on your own."

Her arms fell to her side in surprise. "I don't —"

"You are headstrong," he commented, rising to his feet, "you are capable, you are extremely stubborn and unbelievably intelligent. But you also care about people, even rude, dismissive strangers. Do not go diving off any cliffs until you are sure there are no other ways to achieve your goal."

His expression was kind, gentle even, and Hal looked away, embarrassed to receive such sudden praise. Only then did she realize that he had cleaned up his area, folded the blanket and set the pillow on top. She noticed he was dressed in the outfit she had found for him, simple linen trousers and tunic, with his own boots on.

"Going somewhere?"

"Indeed. It would seem you and I have reached the end our time together."

"Try not get so choked up about it, rider. Such emotion is most unbecoming."

He shot her a rare grin that she could not help but return. Feeling surprisingly sentimental at the thought of his departure, she held out her hand to him one last time. "May I?"

He hesitated just for a moment before nodding, allowing her to step forward. She lifted his tunic and ran her fingers down his chest and ribs, carefully probing and making sure there were no lingering injuries he may have missed. Her eyes gazed at the horrendous scarring on his chest and back as she worked, but she didn't dare comment on them.

His heartbeat was strong, his chest rising and falling in smooth, even strokes at last. She lowered his shirt again and stepped back, feeling foolish. It wasn't that she doubted his magic, but for so long, she worried he wouldn't make it through the night. And when he did, she worried he wouldn't make it through the next. And now he was about as healthy and whole as he could be considering the circumstances, and she was…happy.

"Do I pass your test?" But there was something in his eyes that eased her, and there was no malice in the question this time.

"I dare say that you do."

They shared a brief look, and Hal realized how all-consuming his presence had been these last few weeks. It would be strange without him or Thorn around. His arm moved and she tore her gaze away from his as he held out her book of sketches. "Thank you for allowing me to see the world the way you do. It is quite beautiful."

Hal cradled the book to her chest, stunned that her work had been received so…she didn't even know how to describe her emotions just then. But she was touched and proud. "You're welcome."

He nodded to her then, moving to walk past her, outside. Hal breathed slowly, counting the seconds that past before she quickly made up her mind. She followed him out, catching him just as he was climbing onto Thorn.

"Murtagh, wait!"

He turned — surprised to see her again and to hear his actual name — and dropped back down to the ground as she ran up to him. Before she lost her nerve, she said, "I know we didn't quite…get along. But regardless of anything that was said or done, I really am glad that you're okay."

His expression was pained. "I do not deserve your kindness, Halen."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. What's done is done. But rider?" He looked up at her. She hesitated, unsure if he deserved what she was about to say next. Unsure what it meant for her if she said it anyway. But these last few weeks, she had shared a room with a man who was believed to be evil and cruel. And yet all she saw in him was sadness and misery. "Whatever anger or hate you feel, whatever sorrow and despair that keeps you up at night…try to channel it into something good. Something productive. And when you do that, may you find the peace that has alluded you all these years."

She raised her hand to…she didn't know what. She quickly lowered it to her side, shooting him an embarrassed smile. "Take care, both of you."

"And you," he said in a low voice, his eyes distant as if already lost in thought.

Hal stepped back far enough to give them space, unable to help herself as she watched Thorn's wings unfurl. She sucked in her breath, taking in how the sun reflected off his gem-like scales. What a magnificent creature. And she cursed herself for being too nervous to ask for a sketch. Heaven knows when she'll see another dragon, of all creatures.

She shielded her eyes as the first few flaps of his wings kicked up bits of sand and dust, but she turned her head just as his powerful legs pushed off of the ground. Her eyes followed the dragon and his rider in awe, a small smile on her face until they completely vanished from sight.

It wasn't until later that night, lying in her own bed, that Hal finally noticed that a page in her book had been folded down, which wasn't something she did. She often used twine to mark her spot. Curious, she opened to the page and unfolded it, her eyes widening in surprise as she did.

There, on the last few pages of her book, were the most enhanced and beautiful sketches of Thorn. There was a full-bodied image on one page, a close up of his face on another, and a close-up of his wing as if it were open for flight. In Murtagh's own, surprisingly neat handwriting, he had gone through and made notes of his own, detailing the wingspan, claw length, how far his fire could reach, his weight, how big he could grow, and more. He drew arrows, wrote how dragons could communicate and use magic of their own. She devoured every word and image until she flipped to the very end and saw a note that he had left her.

 _Halen,_

 _I am not very good with speaking, as you have probably already surmised_ — she snorted with amusement — _but I hope this note will do me justice instead._

 _When I say I do not deserve your kindness, it is not a slight against you. The horrors of my past, while I am not proud of them, are still very much part of me. I hurt people. Good people. I have not atoned for my crimes. So, no, I do not deserve your kindness because of all of the pain I have brought to others. But I will selfishly accept it, because a part of me so desperately needed it._

 _Thank you for all you have done for me and, more importantly, for Thorn. It will never be forgotten so long as we live._

 _Murtagh_

 _P.S. I hope you don't mind that I left a sketch of Thorn behind for you in your book. I know it wasn't my place, but it didn't seem right that you never had a chance to draw him. He would've been flattered if you'd asked. He likes you._

 _P.P.S. And I hope, one day, you are able to reach the mainland and that you find all the creatures and plants you desire and can sketch to your heart's content. More of the world deserves to be captured by someone like you. Someone who can see and make something beautiful out of something most would care little for. Your work is beautiful, Halen. Truly._

Hal laughed at that, unable to keep the smile off her face as she read his note again. So, she had been right, to some degree. There was pain there. She felt so conflicted, knowing she shouldn't so easily take his word for it, and yet unable to surmise why he would lie to her of all people. Perhaps she would never know, never fully understand his intentions. It also wasn't her place to know. She would take what she had been given and graciously accept it. But she would never forget this. The dragon or his rider.


	10. Chapter 10: The Beginning of the End

**A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has read/reviewed/followed this story. I wanted to make sure you know that I see you, and I'm grateful. I hope you continue to enjoy.**

* * *

Finding a sense of normalcy after the last few weeks was a testament to Hal's struggle with self-control. During the next few days, she kept busy helping out in the fields or watching the younger children with some of the women, like Sarah and Mai. She hunted her meals for Denu and herself as always, did her chores with impeccable perfection, and maintained her life as if nothing disruptive had happened.

But at night…at night, she felt obsessive. It wasn't just with images of the dragon or memories of her brief conversations with the rider — whose note she read under the dim lighting of the moon on several occasions. It was the fact that they had reminded her that there was so much more out there. Another world, one she had never stepped foot on before. She had a map in her room, somewhere amongst her stack of books. Yet she had never found the courage to leave her quaint little island, the new home she had made for herself. And how could she leave Denu, or the children, or her friends? She would be alone. She wasn't quite sure she was ready for that.

And yet the rider, Murtagh, a complete stranger, believed in her. Had put hope and fire in her heart that she had forgotten. _More of the world deserves to be captured by someone like you._ The words made her flush with something akin to pride.

Of course, she kept his words to herself. She and Denu were still barely on speaking terms after her outburst towards the village leaders. And while she didn't like the silence, she stood by her words, regardless of what anyone thought. But she listened to them, and to the rider, and held her ground, waiting. Hoping that nothing would happen that would prove her right.

But then again, she had a nasty habit of never being wrong.

And near the end of the week, a week after the rider had left, life as she knew it shifted on the island. She was watching the children again, which she was content with doing, along with a few other older women. It was after lunch, so the full bellies combined with the warm day made the children lethargic and sleepy, which was easy work for the adults. Some played lazily in the river, splashing each other or digging in the mud. Others napped in the shade. Hal herself was entertaining a small group with a daring story of how she had rescued the dragon and his rider from the clutches of fearsome sea monster. She embellished certain parts to drag the story out, but they didn't need to know that.

"And then what happened?" Layla demanded, leaning forward with such enthrallment that Hal had to fight to compose her laughter, not wanting to break the stern look on her face that she used to tell her story.

"And then, I took the rider's fallen sword up and grasped it tightly, standing before the Nïdhwal with a look of determination. Never before had I faced such a dreadful foe, but before he could attack, that's when Thorn suddenly burst forth from the ocean and —"

She paused, having looked up briefly and what she saw gave her pause. At first, she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing, but when an image began to form she felt her blood run cold.

"Hal, don't leave us like this, the suspense is killing me!"

Hal looked back down, her chest tight as she tried to keep her voice level. "Sorry lovelies, I just remembered something important. Come along, let's go to Mia and the others."

She ignored their loud protest, ushering them along quickly, hoping they wouldn't turn around and see what she had. The other women looked up, watching Hal with confused faces until she carefully moved her gaze to what was just beyond them.

They needed no further encouragement.

"Come along, loves," Sarah crooned, taking a group back towards the woods. "That's it, move along."

To Mia, Hal said in a low voice, "Find Mennes, then find Denu and tell him to gather the village leaders. See to it that someone finds Ophelia. Don't tell her anything, just bring her to Mennes' hut as soon as you're able."

"Be careful, Halen," Mia said in a low voice, looking frightfully over her shoulder.

"Just watch out for the children, I'll be fine."

Hal pretended to gather a few leftover supplies so the little ones didn't question why she wasn't coming with them. When she was sure they were out of sight, she grabbed her bow and arrows and took off running. Her heart was in her throat, fear and desperation forcing their way up.

When she finally reached him, he was already on the ground, barely conscious. "Eli! Eli, look at me. Oh please, wake up. Wake up!"

He was mumbling incoherently, his eyes fluttering rapidly underneath his lids. She stared in horror at the bloody stump where his left hand should've been. She could not find any other life-threatening injuries, but he was badly bruised and covered in small cuts, likely from thorns and sharp branches. His lips were cracked and bleeding from dehydration.

"Hal," he rasped, gaining a brief moment of clarity.

"Yes, Eli, I'm here. Tell me what happened. Was it a lovuk? Where are the others?"

"Evil. It was…pure evil." His eyes welled with tears, frightened as he gazed off into the distance, seeing something Hal could not. "We didn't stand a chance. The others — lost. Taken. I don't—"

He closed his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness, and Hal was unaware that she was shaking. Amon, Sam, Ayo, _and_ Cado. She couldn't understand how something like this had happened. They were some of the most capable hunters and trackers in the village. Hal had watched them take on lovuk like it was nothing. She had learned everything about survival in this forest from them. What else could possibly catch them so off guard that not even Eli had a name for it?

And then she remembered the mysterious print.

Dammit all. She pressed her forehead to his chest, fighting the sobs of panic that threatened to take her. She couldn't lose it. Not here, not now. Eli was still breathing, still fighting. She needed to get him to Mennes. One thing at a time.

But she was done sitting around.

…

It took Mennes a few hours, but he got Eli's stump to stop bleeding and his fever came down a bit. Ophelia looked positively stricken with grief, and many wives came to her for moral support. But for the families of the men who were missing — there were no words anyone could speak. Hal herself could barely stomach looking at the children, many of whom wore confused expressions and tear-stained faces, their mothers sitting silently, trying to remain strong. Hal couldn't even look at Tena, whose expression remained dry, but soft and compassionate for her children.

Hal began packing her bag that night, gathering her supplies and medicines like she would if she were hunting. On her cot, she laid on all the weapons she could carry: her bow and arrow on her back, the dagger in her boot, two at her side, and one for the belt around her thigh. Very rarely did she have to go out so heavily armed, but she had no idea what she was up against, and she would take any weapon she could carry. They were all recently sharpened, and she stared at them with a numbness in her heart.

"How soon do you leave?"

She didn't turn as Denu's voice rang out from her open door. "First thing in the morning. Were you able to find any others to come with me and help?"

He made a small sound and Hal turned to find him hunched over, his shoulders shaking as tears racked his body. So that would be a no then. Her entire demeanor softened as she walked over to him, taking his face in her hands and placing her forehead against his. "I will come home," she said in a low voice. "To you. And I will bring my friends back with me. I can't sit here any longer if they need help."

"I know, I know. My brave, sweet girl."

She held him tightly, wishing she could say something to ease his pain. She knew he hated this, hated when she put herself at risk like this. All they had was each other, and the threat of losing that weighed heavily for both of them.

There was a soft knock on the door and they pulled apart, Denu bidding the visitor to come in. Eren, Mennes' apprentice and Amon's eldest peered in, looking exhausted and red-eyed from crying. But his voice was steady, having quickly taken over the role as man of the house at just ten-years-old, as he said, "Eli's awake. He wants to talk to you, Hal."

…

Eli did, indeed, look a little better. He was sitting up, an almost-empty bowl of soup in his lap as he took slow sips with his right-hand. He smiled sadly as Hal entered the room, closing the door behind her. She sat at the stool by his bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he admitted, his voice grave and full of remorse.

Hal felt tears burn her eyes and she allowed herself to cry with relief as she said, "I'm so happy you're all right."

"Oh, Hal…" She took his remaining hand in both of her, holding on to it as tightly as he held on to her. "I hate seeing you so upset," he whispered. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Eli, what happened? You said the others had been lost or taken. By whom?"

His expression became grim and he turned away from her. Hal sat up, wiping her face and studying him carefully. "I shouldn't have said that. Now, no matter what I say, you'll go after them, won't you?"

"You were out of it, my friend. You were hardly coherent enough to realize what you were saying. But regardless, I leave in the morning, with or without your help."

He shook his head. "I wish you wouldn't. What we saw out there…I still don't even know if I believe it yet."

"Just tell me anyway."

He sighed, hanging his head. "I don't…I don't think it was human, Hal. It moved unlike anything we had ever seen. And it was strong. Frightfully so. It was tall. And it bit my hand clean off when I tried to attack it."

"Bit?" Eli's express was growing frightened again, stressed at the thought. Worried he might put added strain on himself, Hal changed the subject. "Where were you when this happened."

"Far north. We had been tracking a herd of lovuk moving unusually through the forest. But then we found these prints…they were huge. We thought, perhaps, they belonged to the dragon, but we followed them anyway, curious. We were ambushed in the night."

"How many?"

"I didn't see. I barely got away," he added, holding up what remained of his left arm. "I don't even quite understand how I made it back. It was like there was a light guiding me here, giving me strength." His face suddenly twisted in pain. "I don't know if the others are even still alive, Hal." Fresh tears flowed from his eyes and Hal felt sick, unable to contain her own emotions at the news. "I abandoned our friends. I left then to die. I'm sorry, Hal. I'm so sorry!"

Eli burst into sobs and Hal moved quickly to embrace him. She cursed whoever had done this to him, to her friends, and locked the anger away to use for later. For now, she cried with him. But she did not yet mourn as he did.

She would save that for later, if it was necessary at all.

…

"I'm telling you, whatever you thought you saw, it's not here."

"Well, I'm telling _you_ , I know it is. The vision I saw was exact. It has to be Illium."

Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose, tired of arguing. "Fine, let's say it's on Illium —"

"It is."

"Eragon," Muragh growled warningly.

"Sorry."

"I need more information to go on. An exact location, a description, something. Thorn and I are coming up empty."

"I'm sorry, Murtagh. All I have is what I saw in my dream."

"Right. Explain that to me again."

Eragon sighed, his cheeks flushing pink, because even he knew how ridiculous this all sounded. "It's like I said: there's a little girl, maybe ten or so, who's in danger." Eragon described her in elaborate detail. "I only see her alone and crying. It must be important if she's reaching out for help. The same thing happened —"

"With Arya, I know, I know. But there's no way the village would have allowed me anywhere near the children to get a better look." Murtagh sneered, then he sighed. "This was a wasted effort. And it nearly got Thorn and myself killed."

Eragon's eyes were downcast. "I never intended for that to happen. Murtagh you must know —"

"Yeah, I know, you've already apologized about a dozen times." Granted, Murtagh kept bringing it up about a hundred, so he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Except for Eragon to call off the whole thing and say they were free to leave. Although Murtagh kept forgetting that there was nothing making him stay. Not even his half-brother.

There was a tense pause. Murtagh was grateful that Eragon was able to use his energy to keep the scrying going, because Murtagh's still had not recovered properly. Not after traversing back to where Halen had found him so that he could reclaim his belongings — which, by some unforeseen miracle, had simply sunk to the bottom of the reef. It was still deep, requiring a lot of magic to recover, but he had done it. And he was all the more grateful for it. But he was tired, and this asinine trip was Eragon's idea, let him front the energy for the communications.

"Tell me what you've learned," Eragon said gently.

Murtagh crossed his arms over his chest, speaking in a low voice about the strange behavior in the predators that started around the time Eragon had first contacted him about the dream a few months ago. He referenced the villagers — Halen, although he did not name her specifically — explaining that the behavior was unusual and cause for concern. It was all he had. But Eragon held his chin in his hand, his brow furrowed. "Perhaps you should track those predators instead. That seems like the best lead we have so far."

"Eragon, I did not come all the way out here to risk my neck for some kid I don't know," Murtagh said tightly.

"I know I am asking much of you," Eragon said calmly. "I do — but Murtagh, the last time I had these visions, they led me to Arya. I cannot dismiss them so lightly. If I could go in your stead, I would. Just please…you can go at any time. I cannot stop you. But please, just do a little more digging before you do."

"Fine," Murtagh snapped, breathing like a bull through his nose.

Eragon beamed, and Murtagh wished he could hit his brother though the water he was using as a scrying mirror. "Thank you."

After Eragon ended the connection, Murtagh turned to look at Thorn, who was lying down comfortably in the grass. The sun was high in the sky, their surroundings vibrant and full of life. It was peacefully quiet, the insects buzzing around his head. He fingered the hand-and-a-half sword around his waist, paranoid that it would suddenly disappear on him again.

 _Are you sure it was wise to keep the truth from him?_

Murtagh shook his head. _I need more information first. We_ _don't even know what the print belonged to that Halen found._ Murtagh was growing frustrated with the entire ordeal. _Eragon claims he is still having visions of the girl. I just don't understand why she seems safe in his dreams if he's seeing her because she's in danger. Arya was in a cell, her situation reflected her ask for help. Why doesn't this one? It makes no sense._

 _But he seems to trust his gut. If the child is in danger, and we are in a position to help, then we should do what we can._

 _Try not to sound so excited, Thorn._

 _Perhaps whoever is the cause of all this, plans to strike one of the villages_ , Thorn suggested, ignoring him. A _nd that's why Eragon is still seeing the child in his dreams. She is still in danger._

It made sense, yet Murtagh was hesitant to return nonetheless. _Let's track the wolves for now and see what we can find._


	11. Chapter 11: You?

Hal was already dressed and ready to go by first light, and Nani whined impatiently, saddled and eager to get moving. She checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the weapons she had secured to various parts of her body, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, even though she knew she hadn't. Her bags and blankets were strapped to Nani's saddle, but she was traveling as light as she could manage so that they weren't slowed down by anything unnecessary.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

Denu nodded. "We'll give you two weeks, time to get there and get back. If you're not back —"

"You are _not_ to send anyone in after me," she told him tightly, feeling a tightness in her chest at the words. But she would not allow Denu to sense just how afraid she really was. Of this inhuman thing that Eli and the others had encountered. She and Eli had both agreed the specifics of the attack would remain between them. To anyone else, it was a lovuk attack. That was all they needed to know. The situation was bad enough without piling on anything unnatural.

Denu's grip on his staff tightened. He had done all of his crying the night before. Now, he was trying to be as strong for her as she was for him. Hal didn't have it in her heart to say goodbye, but she had seen too much in her life to be much of an optimist and say that it would all work itself out.

"Look after the little ones. Especially —"

"HAL!"

They both turned in surprise and Hal felt her shoulders drop as the families of the missing men came towards them. The children were running, Layla leading the group with tears running down her cheeks.

The girl collided with her legs, wrapping her arms around them tightly and burying her face in her trousers. "Don't go," Layla whimpered, as though in pain. "I don't want you to go, you can't leave me."

"She's been like this all morning," Eren said tightly, trying to appear indifferent. But she could see it in his eyes, how scared he truly was.

Hal smoothed Layla's thick curls down, and opened her arms so that Eren could fall into her embrace. The other children gathered around, and Hal wiped her face as the wives and mothers came forward with sad smiles.

"They wanted to see you off," Tena said gently, worry in her deep brown eyes.

"As did we," Ophelia added.

"You don't have to do this, love," Imani said, her voice tight as she spoke, but her words sincere. She was Ayo's wife. Four kids. "What you are risking —"

"They would do the same for me," Hal said quickly. "They _have_ done the same for me. I cannot sit idly by if there's a way to bring them home."

She did not speak what the adults all knew could be true: that they may not come home alive. But she had to try. And even if…even if worse came to worse, then their bodies deserved a proper burial. Their souls proper rest. But Hal would not allow such thoughts to cement themselves as true. Not until she had undeniable proof.

"We should go with you," said Micha, Cado's eldest and the oldest of all the children here at sixteen.

"Absolutely not," Hal said firmly. "I need you to keep an eye on the village in my place." She gave them all a gentle smile, wishing she could soothe the aches in the hearts. "I need you all to be strong for me right now, okay? Look out for each other. Look out for your mothers. And look out for yourself. Be smart, and be brave."

She kissed as many cheeks and dried as many eyes as she could, hugging the women and promising she would do her best. Layla clung to her steadfastly, and when Hal realized how behind she had gotten, she regretfully pried the little girl's hands off of her.

"No!" Layla grunted, wrapping her arms around her legs again.

"I have to go, love. You need to let me go."

When Hal crouched down to free herself, Layla only threw her arms around Hal's neck. "NO!"

"I'm sorry, my love."

Tena had to help unfasten her daughter's finger, holding her tightly so that Hal could mount Nani. The woman gave Hal a firm look. "Halen."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Above all else, you make sure you come home. None of us, not even our husbands, would be able to stomach it if anything happened to you too."

Hal could see the fire in the woman's eyes. The resolution. Hal knew how deep her love for her husband was, and the idea of raising those children on her own…but Tena was made of iron, forged in fire. And for all their bickering, Hal had always admired her will.

"Yes ma'am."

Hal didn't dare look back as she and Nani disappeared into the forest. Despite the beauty of the sun's rays on the dewy leaves, there was nothing but a heaviness in Hal's heart. She had no idea what she was up against, had no idea what to expect. And for the first time, the secrets that the woods of her island held frightened her.

…

The only breaks they took were for Nani's sake. Hal ate just enough to keep her hunger at bay, but she was eager to cover the distance Eli had indicated they had made. They had traveled further north, further than they often did, following the tracks Hal had so idiotically assumed belonged to Thorn. Both tracks were fading by now, but the smallest clues were still enough for her to note whether or not she needed to adjust her course at all before continuing forward.

By the morning of the third day, Hal was growing restless and anxious, still having found nothing unusual. Having fed Nani her breakfast, Hal herself had decided to skip it and instead sucked on the leaves of the sweet pepper plant to curbs some of her hunger.

The sun was high in the sky when she stopped once again, sliding off Nani and letting her drink from the nearby stream. There was a small herd of deer, eyeing Hal curiously. She smiled, holding out her hand for one doe to sniff and know that, at this moment, Hal was not their enemy. Just as it took a cautious step forward, there was a sound of rocks tumbling down the dry, eroded cliff. It wasn't high up, probably just where part of the river had once flown through and ate away at the land. The small stream was all that was left.

Hal unfurled, immediately fearing the worst as she nocked an arrow and trained it on the direction of the noise. Anyone would have called out to her, especially the men in the hunting party. Which meant it was someone else keeping their distance. But no one stepped out, and it made her hair stand on edge.

She whistled for Nani and led the horse into the trees. The horse walked a little further before coming to a standstill at a safe distance. Hal knelt in silence, waiting for someone to come out. She waited with baited breath, anxious as footsteps slowly approached. She gave it a few more moments before quietly standing, her arrow already loaded. She couldn't see their face, all she knew was that they were tall, their dark brown hair unruly and wet.

She fired just over the top of their head to scare them and catch them off guard. True to form, they heard the arrow cutting through the air and dropped to their knees. But Hal was already rushing towards them, her dagger pulled from the belt around her waist. But they were ready for her, and they barely had to turn before gripping her arm and flipping Hal over their head like she weighed nothing.

Although she knew instantly it was a horrible idea, she braced her knees for the impact as the soles of her feet hit the ground, the impact reverberating up through her legs. Hal gritted her teeth at the resounding pain, but it was worth it to catch the man off guard. He wasn't expecting her to _not_ hit the ground. Hal gripped his arm and twisted it, spinning around so that she could kick his leg out from under him, putting him at a complete loss.

Hal straddled his waist and held the knife to his throat. And then she stopped, blinking in confusion at a familiar pair of grey eyes that she was sure she would never see again.

Murtagh looked beyond irritated as Hal cocked her head to the side in surprise. "Rider? What are you doing here?"

…

Murtagh stared up at Halen, annoyed she had caught him off guard and stunned to see her, of all people, here, of all places. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?!"

"I asked you first!"

"I asked you — get off me!"

She twirled the knife effortlessly in her hand, always managing to catch the handle without even having to look at it. But she kept a hand to his chest. He could easily buck her off, but that glaring thought didn't even cross his mind. "Was that you up there watching me?"

"I was watching for the deer," he spat, his face flushing at the implication in her question, even though it hadn't been his intention. " _You_ just happened to be there too."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't see that it was you. And what the bloody hell was with the arrow? You don't know how to check and see who you're aiming for _before_ you start firing those things off?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, I wasn't aiming to _kill_ you. And in all fairness, you _left_ and this part of the forest is abandoned. How was I supposed to know you weren't a predator that meant me ill will?"

"Opening your mouth and asking never hurt anyone," he grumbled, irate.

"I'm a defenseless young woman traveling on my own in the dangerous wilderness," she said with her hand over her chest as if the thought of his suggestion was outrageous. Getting to her feet, she then offering him a hand to help him up. "Can't be too careful."

"I saw your handiwork with the creatures back near your village," he said biting, taking her hand. 'Defenseless' is not the term I would use."

Halen snorted, clearly more amused than he was as she pulled him to his feet. She whistled, loud and high. A few moments later, Nani came running out from between the trees.

She gave him a once-over, her expression unreadable. "You never answered my question: what are you still doing here?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me what you're doing here?"

He figured she wouldn't respond, thinking it would be an easy out. But he was surprised when instead she said, "A hunting party left the day before you did. Yesterday afternoon, only one returned, badly injured, saying the others had been lost or taken by an unknown assailant."

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Not your fault. Just…these are people that I really care about. If anything has happened to them…their families…"

"Why are you out here alone?"

She turned to look at him. "Don't think you're getting out of this. I answered your question now you answer mine."

He huffed, but obliged her since he tried to be a man of his word. "I'm tracking the lovuk, trying to see if they'll lead me to the owner of the giant print you found."

"Why?"

"Ah, ah, ah," he said teasingly. "Your turn. Why are you out here alone?"

"You're such an ass."

"I've been called worse, so I would consider being an ass an act of progress."

She snorted, but the smallest of smiles graced her troubled face. "I volunteered to go. The men who left are some of the most capable hunters, so if something caught them off guard, it only makes sense for me to go."

"But why alone?"

"I work faster alone. Besides, I have less to lose than any other person with a family depending on them. It's not fair to ask any more people to give up what several families already have."

She said it so casually, shrugging it off like it was nothing. But her words saddened and angered him. He still didn't understand why she was on her own. And considering that a group of men had been taken, potentially killed, by whatever it was they were both tracking, it seemed shortsighted that she had not brought any support or back-up.

"So why are you tracking the lovuk or this creature or whatever? Why didn't you leave?"

"Because of a favor," he said cryptically, not wanting to get into Eragon and his strange dream that had propelled Murtagh into this unasked-for game of cat and mouse. It sounded ridiculous to him. He could only imagine how Halen would take it.

"Okay," she said slowly, reading his defensive silence for what it was. "Where's Thorn?"

"Flying up ahead, keeping an eye out for predators."

"And have you found anything?"

"Nothing," he admitted, scratching his beard, embarrassed by his lack of progress. "Whatever it is, it's either good at hiding itself or someone is good at hiding it."

"Comforting."

They stood there in silence, and Murtagh took in her appearance in small doses, noting that she was heavily armed. She was dressed in fitted trousers, and light-weight but sturdy-looking boots that came up to the middle of her calves. Her long-sleeve tunic was tucked in to her pants, a leather vest fitted over it. Her hair was pulled into a braid that was then wrapped and tucked tightly into itself at the nape of her neck. She looked every bit the capable hunter he knew her to be. He had seen the dead lovuk that had attacked Thorn. One arrow each, a clean and quick kill.

"You said you were watching the deer," she said suddenly, turning to face him. He quickly averted his eyes before she caught him. If she noticed his staring, she didn't indicate or say. "Have you eaten yet?"

By the time the food was hot and they were digging into the meal Halen had prepared, Thorn had landed and joined them. Halen looked quite pleased to see him, and vice versa. They ate in a comfortable silence, spooning hot stew into their mouths before it got cold.

Finishing her second bowl, Halen lowered it to the ground. The movement caught his attention, but her suddenly shy expression held his gaze. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to thank you…for my sketch, of Thorn."

His face went red. He had completely forgotten…it had been a spur of the moment decision. After thumbing through her book, after catching the way her eyes lingered on Thorn, her compliment of him. It felt wrong not to. But he also hadn't expected to see her again, and he hadn't thought she would bring it up. And then, even though he couldn't see it, he knew she was blushing just as hard as he was.

"It made me happy," she added quickly, before she lost her nerve. "Along with your note."

Murtagh wished he could disappear into the earth, but he couldn't deny how pleased her sentiment made him. "I've never shared those sketches with anyone," she continued in a low voice. "I've always been rather embarrassed by them. I'm so obsessed with it because it brings me peace and joy, and I just…I know the villagers wouldn't understand something like that, so I've kept it to myself. I was — it made me happy to realize that someone appreciated it. And your words were very sweet."

"You're not angry?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"I don't know. You were just so protective of your book, in hindsight I realized it was an invasion of your space. I wasn't sure."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps…but it really meant a lot to me, so I didn't mind."

He breathed. "Then you're welcome."

They both shared rather embarrassed smiles, looking away before things felt too intimate. Halen took a slow breath, her expression growing somber. "I should get moving, before it gets too late."

Ah yes, the reason fate had brought them together again. Murtagh got to his feet and looked at Thorn. They shared the same thought, Thorn nodding his head in agreement. He turned to face Halen, finding her gaze already on him. "About that," he said. "We're coming with you."

"You're what?"

"You heard me. Whatever it is you're after, we're heading in the same direction. We might as well work together to figure this out."

He thought she would fight him, but as she rose to her feet, he thought he saw a look of relief in her eyes before her expression turned teasing. "You miss me that much, do you?"

He held his hand over his heart with mock forlorn. "It was perhaps the longest week of my life."

She shook her head, laughing. "Ass."

Just as they were prepared to leave, a thought crossed Murtagh's mind. He looked over at Halen, who was making sure her things were securely tied to Nani. He debated how much to involve her, debated how much he should trust her.

 _I think it's fair to tell her what we know. Tell her why we're here_ , Thorn offered. _I don't think she would think any less of us and she may have insights we don't about the other villages._

 _Perhaps. But if this gets to be too big, I don't want her involved._

And it was true. He didn't want to risk anything happening to her if things got out of hand. Especially because of him.

 _We'll continue to keep an eye on the situation then, but for now, a little information may prove beneficial in the long run. And she may know something we do not or provide an outsider's perspective._

Murtagh sighed, and Halen glanced over at the noise, seeing his troubled expression. "Rider?"

"Halen," he said slowly. She turned to face him, standing straighter at the serious air about him. "I haven't been completely honest with you about why I'm here."


	12. Chapter 12: Defy the Odds

Hal leaned against a tree for support, her mind spinning as she tried to contemplate what Murtagh had just spent the better part of an hour trying to explain to her. "Okay, so Eragon — the Dragon Rider who led the Varden to victory against Galbatorix —"

His eye twitched. "Unimportant."

"— has had visions of a little girl, approximately ten-years-old, who's in some kind of danger?"

"Apparently."

"And you think it's connected to whatever creature is on the island…?"

"Possibly. I don't bloody know. Eragon says his visions haven't been clear as to the danger. But the timing is too much of a coincidence to be easily dismissed."

Hal rubbed her temples, trying to process all of this new information.

"Halen, is there any girl you know of in your village that matches that description?"

She shook her head. "No, none that immediately come to mind. Only a handful of the children fit that age group but none that are as you have described." Tall and lanky with choppy, curly hair, round cheeks, and brown eyes — every child matching part of the description lacked the other. And that was just with the children of her village. There were two other villages Hal knew of — one she was close with that she could visit without arousing suspicion. But it would be impossible to give a confident answer. "Are you sure you have the right place? There are other islands."

"Eragon insists it's Illium."

"Maybe he's wrong."

"That's what I said."

"And what did he say?"

"That he wasn't."

Hal snorted. "Oh, well in that case…"

"…I know this is a lot to just dump on you," Murtagh said with a grimace.

"I'm glad you did," she admitted. "If there's something bigger at play here, I want to know about it. Especially if it puts my island and my people at risk. I want to help, if I can."

Murtagh nodded. They both agreed that he and Thorn would fly ahead and keep an eye on things while Hal traveled on the ground. Hal had to admit, as the wind whipped past her and Nani, she felt oddly safe with Murtagh and Thorn so close. It was an unexpected partnership, she knew. But she was more surprised by how unsurprised she was. It felt right and, considering the circumstances, who was she to object to the power of a dragon and his rider when it was offered so freely to help?

They traveled at a good pace, Nani strong enough to surpass several miles with ease. Occasionally Hal would stop to check the markings the group may have left behind, making sure they were still headed in the right direction. But otherwise, she did not slow her pace for anything.

 _Halen_.

Caught completely off guard, Hal yanked harder on Nani's reins than she intended, and the horse slid to a stop, whining at the pressure and ignoring Hal's panicked state. She turned every which way in her saddle, unsure if she had truly heard her name or not. But it had echoed so loudly in her head, which is honestly what frightened her the most.

Nani trotted nervously in a circle as the voice entered her head again. _Halen, is everything all right?_

There was something genuinely frightening about her a voice not her own in her head. Was it some sort of attack? Should she flee? Dare she fight?

 _Halen, relax, it's me. It's Murtagh._

She froze, blinking back the tears of fear as confusion and disbelief swept over her. "Murtagh? But how?"

She could hear him chuckle, and she whipped around as if expecting to see him standing right beside her.

"I don't understand…" she breathed, her voice tight.

 _That is my fault. I should have warned you. This is how I am used to communicating because of Thorn._

"And you think this is funny?"

 _It's a little funny._

"Then land and I'll show you just how amused I really am."

A tense pause. Then:

 _There's a clearing up ahead. Thorn and I will meet you there_.

His voice had lost its entertained edge, and Hal could feel her expression hardening in anger as she urged Nani forward, following the rider's instructions until they reached the spacious clearing. Thorn was already grounded, Murtagh standing with his arms crossed and a bashful expression on his face that did nothing to soften the blow of Hal's fury as she dismounted Nani.

She stalked towards him, covering the distance quickly. And when she reached him, she threw out both hands and shoved him as hard as she could manage. "Have you lost your damn mind, Dragon Rider? Because I know you are not nearly as stupid as to think I would ever be comfortable or amused by the fact that a complete stranger just spoke to me in my own damn head."

He held up his hands as if in surrender, but did not strike back in any way. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, his expression sincere in its humility. "You're right. I overstepped. I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry."

"You damn well better be. You scared the shit out of me. I could barely stand you reading my book and you just appeared inside my mind like I was an open door. How would you feel if someone did that to you? Just waltzed inside your mind and started talking to you as if they owned it?"

Something in his face twisted, and his gaze dropped in shame. But Hal saw something else she did not expect.

Fear.

It was in the way his entire body tightened, as if bracing for a blow or hit that would never come. His gaze became distant, as if he was remembering a painful part of his past. Hal stared, almost afraid herself of the wild look in his eyes. The panic. She knew that look. She _knew_ that fear. And her anger almost immediately abated in surprise and, she had to admit, a bit of concern.

"Murtagh?" she whispered as they stood there in silence.

He looked at her, as if having forgotten she was even there. There was such a look of hurt in his grey eyes that it was Hal's turn to look away, almost feeling guilty for snapping at him. It frightened her to think it, but she had a sinking suspicion that he knew exactly how it felt to have an unwanted presence in his mind.

"It won't happen again," he said quickly, his voice emotionless as he turned on his heel and began to climb onto Thorn. "We should keep moving, we only have an hour or so of daylight left."

Hal was more than happy to oblige, wanting to keep moving and give her and the rider some space. Just like that, it was beginning to sink in the depths of what she had agreed to. She had been so immediately relieved at the thought of not facing whatever had taken her friends on her own that she hadn't stopped to remind herself that Murtagh Morzansson was a dangerous, enigmatic man. And it was one thing to be alone with him in a room while still in the village. But alone in a forest, miles away from any village or any person?

Hal knew she was taking a great leap of faith with this man and his dragon. It made her nervous, yet it did not frighten her. And she did not know if she was very foolish or very dumb. But the thought of bringing her friends back home rang stronger than any desire to turn back now for her own selfish comforts. And regardless of his past, Hal implicitly knew Murtagh would not harm her unless she herself became a threat to him and Thorn, which was impossible. Just like always, Hal trusted her gut above all else. And her gut told her to stay with Murtagh and Thorn for now.

And her instincts had yet to lead her astray.

…

Hal could not shake the look in the rider's eyes for the rest of her ride. She knew that kind of fear intimately, and she was curious as to what had caused such a reaction in him while also terrified of it as well. And the more she thought of it, the guiltier she felt for how she had snapped at him. For how her words had drudged up this painful part of his past. She had been so scared and unaware…and it didn't help that Thorn flew slower and lower, enough so that Hal always saw him as she rode — and she was sure it was so that he and Murtagh could see her. And she wondered if Murtagh's reason for reaching out had been to assure himself that she was doing okay and didn't need anything. There was truly no other way for them to communicate unless Hal stopped to make a fire and sent up a smoke signal. And the fact that, despite the sudden invasion, his actions could have been due to his concern for her wellbeing made her feel even worse.

By the time they stopped for the night — Hal finding a decent enough gap between the trees where Thorn could fit and an alcove of fallen trees that had grown out of the earth for her, Nani, and Murtagh — the silence felt even worse and more tense. Hal softly volunteered to go fetch the food if Murtagh would get a fire going.

Hal had little inclination to walk too far on her own to hunt, so she pulled off her boots, rolled up the hem of her pants and waded into the river. Fish weren't always the top of her list because she hated the thin bones; but, admittedly she didn't want to worry about catching, skinning, and cooking a mammal either. So, fish it was.

Her father had been a fisherman, and a proud one at that. Everything she knew about it, she had eagerly learned from him. Even now, years after his death, fishing made her feel close to him again. Recalling how he had taught her, first, with a rod and hook, then with a net, then a spear, and then —

Hal closed her eyes, feeling the currents move around her ankles. She breathed, opening her eyes and straining to see in the growing darkness. But she had just enough light to make out the small school darting around her feet, moving with the currents.

She lunged without thinking, clearing her mind of all thought like her father taught her. She grabbed the first fish by the tail, where it was less slick than the body itself. She did not pull straight up — where it could slip out of her hands — but instead moved and tossed it directly to the shore where it flopped needlessly at the sudden lack of water. She continued to move quickly, not wanting another predator to snap up her hard-earned meal because they were too lazy to do it themselves.

By the time she made it back to the camp, Murtagh was sitting on the ground, close to the fire with a contemplative and distant expression. When she approached, he looked up then away quickly, as if thinking she might snap at him again.

Nervous and unsure of what to say, Hal sat down across from him and pulled her food knife from her bag, setting to work prepping the fish as the fire grew hotter. Every so often, she would glance up at the rider to find him staring at Thorn or into the forest. His expression seemed to grow sadder with each passing moment, although his posture became less stiff by the time she was roasting the fish over the fire.

When she was settling back down in her spot while they waited for dinner to cook, she looked at him once more to find his gaze already on her. He no longer seemed caught up in whatever trappings of the past had ensnared him for the last hour or so, but Hal still felt embarrassed at the kind smile on his face while having been caught staring.

"You have a lot of questions," he stated plainly, almost sounding amused at the idea.

"What makes you say that?"

"I would expect nothing less from the woman who tracks wildlife and studies it for months and years on end to understand it better. Someone with that kind of curiosity is only curious by knowing what questions to ask and then asking them."

The way he phrased it felt almost like an invitation, and it took Hal several long moments to understand. "You don't have to do this."

"Yes. I do. Please: ask me anything."

"It is dangerous to give someone so curious such free reign."

"As long as you do not let such opportunity corrupt you, I think I'll be fine. Unless, of course, you plan on manhandling me in a fight again to get the answers you seek."

She smiled as his humor, surprised to find it so refreshing to hear coming from him. It only added to her list of questions — and she had so many that it was hard to pick just one. She bit her lip, thinking carefully. She didn't want to pry him open and force him to bear his soul to her. She might not like what she would find. Not to mention it would be uncomfortable for them both. But she knew this was a rare opportunity, to ask him anything that she may never get to know or understand about him.

He was surprisingly patient while she thought through her options. When she finally settled on a question, she felt nervous. Unsure if he truly meant he would answer any question, or if there were stipulations he had not thought of, that would come up when he heard her question.

She licked her lips slowly. "Why did you agree to come out here? To Illium, I mean — and search for a girl your former enemy suggested may or may not have been in danger?"

She saw his lip twitch, as if he had expected nothing less from her. Not too heavy, like why did he serve Galbatorix yet still expressed such remorse. But nothing so easy, like what was life on the mainland like. She found herself wanting to understand the man hidden under the mask — or rather, the beard.

Murtagh took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully. "I admit that, on the surface, it was because Eragon wore me down with his requests. It was a constant barrage from him asking for my help and, sooner rather than later, I just desperately wanted him to shut up."

Hal stared. Then she could not help but chuckle. Murtagh noticed and grinned as well.

"But it was actually Thorn who convinced me to agree," he continued, and both he and Hal looked over at the dragon who let out a low rumble somewhere from the back of his throat. "We were miserable in the northern cold and…he thought it was time we did something different for a change. Something good."

There was a small silence following his answer as Hal turned the words over in her mind. There was nothing to indicate he was lying. By all intents and purposes, she should think him nothing more than a liar. Yet her gut, once again, told her he was telling her the truth.

"And you?"

He looked over at her, her gaze steady as she waited to hear his response. His expression became more neutral, unreadable. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke again. "I think that constitutes as your one question for the night. We should get some rest. Thorn and I will take first watch."

Hal studied him carefully, looking for a break in the armor. When none came, she slowly nodded her head. "Fine, if you insist. Just make sure to keep an eye out for the snakes."

There was a nervous pause. "What snakes?"

Hal laughed as she rolled over.

…

 _Do you think she's really asleep?_ Murtagh asked.

 _It would seem so. But just in case, think quietly so she can't hear us._

Murtagh shot Thorn a dark look but the dragon just let out a deep wheeze meant to be a laugh. The ground shook slightly underneath them, and Halen let out a low moan, frowning as she turned over in her sleep, facing towards Murtagh. Her expression relaxed and Murtagh breathed easier once he knew she wouldn't wake.

 _Maybe it was a mistake to join her_ , he continued to Thorn.

 _You made a mistake, young one. And she was angry, yes, and rightfully so. But I do not think she thought you meant her ill will. I think it just unnerved her, is all. And now we know not to do it again, at least not without permission._

 _I was only trying to make sure she was all right. I am not used to having to worry about someone besides you or myself._

Thorn seemed to perk up. _You're worried about her?_

Murtagh rolled his eyes. _You make it out to sound more noble than it actually is. She may claim not to have a family of her own, but I saw how Denu was around her. I have enough blood on my hands. I will not have hers; not after she has saved my life._

 _There are many who would say that is noble_ , Thorn countered.

 _No, it is simply the right thing to do._

Thorn was quiet a moment. Like he had been able to do with Halen, Murtagh could sense the dragon's question that had less to do with their mental connection and more with the tension behind the silence. _Yes Thorn, what is it?_

 _Why did you not answer the woman's question? About whether or not_ you _thought it time we did something good._

 _Because I could not give her the answer she wanted to hear. Nor can I give you the answer you want to hear. And I will not lie to either of you._

 _And what answer do you think we are both too weak-minded to hear?_

Murtagh glanced over at the dragon, his shoulders stiff. He knew Thorn would never judge him. Never leave him. Yet shame still prickled at his skin.

 _You want to do the right thing,_ Murtagh began slowly, _and I admire that. I truly do. But what is the point in putting ourselves in danger? I'll not risk you, Thorn, not for Eragon or anyone else._

 _Nor I you, but we cannot avoid helping those who need it simply because there is no glory in it._

 _You misunderstand me. It's not glory I seek. Just peace of mind and a life that we may call our own. It is still not too late for us to head east, you know._

 _And what? We let Halen know that we wish her well and hope her friends are not dead or worse? We leave the child to suffer a fate unknown and go about our lives pretending the weight of our decisions won't contribute to the ongoing turmoil in your mind?_

 _Thorn —_

 _Don't you dare act as though I am wrong for mentioning it. Ever since Galbatorix died — nay, even before then — you have not been well. You are mentally hard on yourself, wearing yourself down with a constant barrage of self-hate and loathing that breaks my heart. And I know that if we leave now, it will only break you further. Now I do not wish to force you to do anything you don't want, but I believe this will be good for you, and I will tie you to my back and force you to help if I must._

Murtagh struggled to smile, but his throat felt impossibly tight, his eyes burning at the compassion and love he felt from Thorn across their bond and in his words. Overcome with emotion, Murtagh struggled to form a coherent thought.

 _What if I fail? What if I can't help them? Eragon was strong enough to deal with the weight of an entire rebellion depending on him and I can barely handle the expectations of one woman._

 _You have already defied the expectations of others. Do not forget that if you had not undone Galbatorix's wards and shields, Eragon would not have been able to defeat him in the first place._

 _You forgot the part where I subjected myself and you to his tyranny, tortured Nasuada, and cemented our legacy as traitors to the nation._

 _You are just as much victim as you are villain of that story._

 _I am_ not _a victim!_

 _Fine, then stop acting like one! Act. The woman told you to take your anger and grief and fuel it into doing something good. I felt how those words stirred something in you for perhaps the first time in years. This is our chance to do something right. I want to do the right thing, young one. And I know you do too. And if, that's if, you fail, then so have I. For your failures, your successes, your loss, and your joys, are also mine. You and I are in this together, remember that. You are not here alone. And I sense that Halen will help anyway she can as well. So long as we both give this our all, then I will be proud of us. For I'd rather try and fail, then never try at all and leave innocent fates to chance._

Murtagh felt himself straightening at Thorn's words. Although his nerves were still bad and his doubt still ever-present, he could not help but admire Thorn's resolve. It reminded him, yet again, that the king, despite all of his efforts, had not broken him. He was still resilient and hopeful and compassionate and energetic, and it brought tears to Murtagh's eyes.

Thorn reached out, his nose brushing Murtagh's cheek. _I had to learn it from someone, you know._

Murtagh closed his eyes. _Do you really think we can do this?_

Thorn hummed. _I do._

 _Then I will continue to have faith, my friend._

 _And that is all I ask of you._

 _You will not ask any more of me?_ Murtagh teased.

 _No more and no less._

…

Hal almost didn't notice it at first, but there was a resolve in the rider that she was sure hadn't been there before. It wasn't obvious, but something about his demeanor was certainly different. He stood just a little taller, despite the nervous way in which carefully avoided her gaze. He had let her sleep longer than she had anticipated, but he did not seem too tired or worn out. Yet she still watched him carefully, her curiosity almost overwhelming. But she kept her questions at bay through breakfast and again when they departed, Hal continuing on ground while Murtagh and Thorn flew overhead.

Not even an hour had passed when Nani began to act up, slowing down and whining nervously, rearing back on two legs as if desperate to turn around.

"Come on, Nani, I need you," Hal pleaded, trying to get the horse to calm down. She stroked the back of her neck, shushing her. "Please, just a little bit further. You can do it, come on, girl."

Nani snorted, shaking her head. But eventually the horse calmed down long enough to press forward, and Hal breathed with newfound fear. Nani's instincts were sharp. If she sensed something was wrong, then something was definitely wrong.

Riding became harder, Nani trying to turn back, becoming so desperate that she threatened to buck Hal a few times. As difficult as it was, they pressed forward. Hal's eyes were no longer peeled for signs of her companions, but rather for signs of a threat. Something more dangerous than a lovuk. Something sinister enough to spook Nani.

Something not of this island.

Suddenly she felt it. An instantaneous stillness that made her muscles seize and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It was as if the world had suddenly gone silent. Hal could no longer hear the wind whipping past her ears or the beating of the ground beneath Nani's hooves. All she could hear was the slow exhale of her breath, and the sharp inhale when she realized something was devastatingly wrong.

Nani came to a shuddering halt, digging her hooves into the dirt. Hal, completely unaware, was flipped over the horse's head and landed hard on the ground. She was sure the only reason she hadn't broken anything was because her body had been completely relaxed upon impact from not realizing what had been about to happen. But it didn't hurt any less. Her knees and wrists stung from the shock of the impact as she rolled into a stop, her shoulder smarting. Jarred but unhurt, she looked up in stunned surprise.

" _NANI_!"

The horse suddenly took off back where they had come. Hal scrambled to her feet and started after her, but it was futile. She watched, horrified, as Nani disappeared into the thicket, leaving her stranded. Hal swallowed her fear, unsure of what could have possibly frightened Nani so much that she would not only throw Hal from the saddle, but then run away. It was completely out of character, and Hal was frozen, her eyes scanning the quiet area with trepidation.

She couldn't hear anything. No birds, no insects. Not even the river. Yet everything else appeared as normal as ever. The sky was just as blue, the sun just as warm. Yet she still shook with how unnatural her surroundings seemed, terrified to be stranded.

That's when she felt it again. Not a stillness, but a presence. The feeling of being watched. Shaking, Hal slowly turned around, reaching stealthily for the dagger at her hip. But there was nothing there. Just an empty forest. Her eyes scanned her immediate surroundings, but she saw nothing and no one. Yet she felt a presence all the same, like something was calling to her. She walked with trepidation, her dagger in hand, slowly crouching down to make herself a smaller target in case the need arose.

"Halen!"

She yelped in surprise, spinning on her heel as Thorn landed, Murtagh jumping down from his saddle. Whatever she had felt, it was gone now, and Hal shook her head as if waking up from a dream. The rider ran towards her, brows pinched with concern. Hal could've hugged him, she was so relieved to see him. In his hand, she noticed for the first time, was a sword, still in its sheath. She stared at in surprise as he approached. It was the first time she had seen him properly armed. "Are you all right? What happened? Where's Nani?"

Hal looked over her shoulder once more, unsure of how she should describe what had just happened. "Something spooked Nani and she took off after tossing me from the saddle." She turned back to face Murtagh. "Do you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

Hal blinked, and realized the stillness and silence she had felt had been lifted. Or perhaps it had never been there to begin with. She could hear the cry of the birds' overhead, the rushing water of the river to their left. And yet…

Hal turned away from him again, feeling like she was losing her mind. She shook her head slowly. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

She snorted. "No. But there's nothing here so why bother? I'm more pressed about the fact that my horse is a coward." She sighed. "We might as well explore on foot and find a place to rest. I have a feeling we are close to wherever my friends disappeared from."

Murtagh watched her carefully, his eyes filled with doubt at her nonchalance. Wanting to dissuade his concern in order to, hopefully, appease her own, Hal decided to change the subject. "Where did you get the sword from?"

He glanced down as if also surprised to see it in his hand. "It's mine. It was at the bottom of the reef where you rescued me."

"Ah, of course," Hal said slowly. She was sure he probably wouldn't mind considering his life was at stake, but she decided not to mention they were likely the heavy items she had decided to cut from his persons. "Are you strong enough to wield it?"

His face twisted with indignation.

Hal rolled her eyes, immediately annoyed that his pride was so easily wounded. "I meant since you almost _died_ , you overly sensitive kitten. As confident as I am in my abilities — and make no mistake, I am very good — I'm also not an idiot. I don't have the physical and mental capacity to worry about you _and_ my friends."

"Then I relieve you of your heavy burdens! I apologize for being such an inconvenience on your physical and mental capacities."

"Great Heavens, rider, you insist on acting like everyone is out to get you."

"Not that I owe someone like you an explanation—"

" _Someone like me_?"

"—but I don't have the luxury of assuming people have my best interest at heart. As far as I'm concerned, doing so will get you used or it will get you killed and I refuse to let that be my life or Thorn's any longer."

"Then what the bloody hell are you even doing out here—?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and silencing Hal immediately in surprise. Not because she was frightened, but because it was the most emotion he had shown to date. She could hear his own frustration, irritation, and confusion in his tone. But it was also the way he took a deep breath before his entire body just seemed to fold in on itself. His shoulders became hunched, almost defeated. And he hung his head as if the fight had left him. "I don't know," he repeated, in a softer voice. He couldn't even look at her, his hands on his hips.

Hal shook her head, not willing to stand down just because of his outburst. "Look, if your pride is going to be an issue, Morzansson, tell me now. Because there are missing people who are very important to me that I will find, with or without you. I will not have you slowing me down because your head is shoved so far up your own ass. Now you offered your services, and I will still gladly accept them. But I need you to remember that there are good men with families waiting for them to come home. This is not about you, or me, or Eragon, or Thorn, or little girls. I need you in this all way. Can you do that?"

Even under the abhorrent beard, she could see how his jaw tightened, a vein throbbing around his temple. But just like before, after she had snapped at him, she could see how he seemed to fight with himself, shame gnawing away anger fighting with indignation. There was a warzone going on in this man, and Hal was beginning to realize the depths of how far gone he truly was.

Once again, she felt guilty for being short with him. She was anxious. Nothing about the last few months was making any sense. The lovuk acting out, the mysterious print, her friends missing, the silence, the evil presence Eli claimed to have felt. And it was obvious that Murtagh was feeling his own strain, his own weight.

Hal closed her eyes and took a slow breath.

"I lied to you before," she said in a much softer tone. Murtagh didn't glance at her, but she knew he was listening. "When you asked me why I came out here alone. I said that I was the strongest hunter left, which is true. I am. But the full truth is that…no one else wanted to come."

Murtagh's head finally snapped up, his eyes narrowed as if in disbelief.

Her smile was pained, her throat tight. "Everyone was too afraid. I can't say I blame them. You may think them cowards but…the people of this village are not built for this sort of supernatural…thing. If I fail, not only will the families of these men be left to fend for themselves, but so will my village. We are all the best hunters and fighters and trackers we have. Six people out of hundreds. If that doesn't tell you the kind of life we lead here, I don't know what will."

She took a large step forward until they were practically chest-to-chest, her gaze firmly holding his. He did not look away, unable to from the resolve and fire in her eyes. "You should be dead, rider. I saw what that sea serpent did to your body. You weren't even breathing when I found you. Not to mention you used magic you shouldn't have been able to use to heal Thorn, and still did not die. And that shield you created to protect us from Thorn's fire when the lovuk attacked was bloody magnificent. I need _that_ Murtagh Morzansson with me. Here. The man who continuously defies the odds to do what needs to be done. And I know he's there. So please, help me."

There was a long pause, but Hal refused to back down. She stood there, breathing slowly, waiting, as neither of them refused to break away first. Finally, Murtagh nodded, his expression steady. It wasn't exactly confident, but it was acceptance, and she could work with that.

Grinning, Hal curled the fingers of her hands into fist. Raising her arms at the same time, she beat twice on her chest, and twice on Murtagh's, using her left hand so that she landed right over his heart. "I knew you still had a fight in you, Dragon Rider."


	13. Chapter 13: Demons of the Mind

"You could've ridden on Thorn," Hal said, finally caving and breaking the silence. "I truly didn't mind."

"You said something spooked Nani enough for her to toss you from the saddle. I won't leave you on your own."

Hal shot him a grateful smile. They walked in silence, looking for a place to settle down for the time being and get their bearings. Murtagh had refused to leave her side, insisting on walking beside her. And they walked mainly in a cool silence, not quite tense, but not quite comfortable either.

Fiddling with the string of her bow, Hal asked, "How are you feeling? Truly? I know your full strength has not returned to you in a week's time."

"I'm managing," was all he said. When he caught her eye, and saw that her concern was genuine, he added, "I don't move as quickly as I would like. My body still feels worn from lack of use, on top of the damage done to it. It will be a while before I am fully recovered, I fear."

"Lack of use?"

He stared straight ahead. "I admit…I haven't stayed in shape like I once was. And since I haven't had to use so much magic, even the smallest of spells can tire me if Thorn is not helping me."

"Why haven't you been practicing? That seems pretty crucial."

He looked uncomfortable, and Hal realized that perhaps she was pressing for more information than she deserved to know. "How about we just stop here for now?" She paused, glancing at the area around them. "There's not much in terms of cover, but we should be fine to make camp here for tonight. What do you say?"

He glanced at her, appreciative. "I think here will work."

This time, Murtagh hunted their dinner while Hal started the fire. There were enough dry leaves and branches to keep it going for days on end, and the flames were already growing as Murtagh returned with two decent-sized birds.

"Thank you," he said, returning her bow and arrow to her.

"Not at all. I didn't know you could hunt."

"You think I'm just a useless sack of skin performing magic tricks?" His tone was teasing.

"Yeah, something like that," she said with a grin. He sat across from her, and Hal watched him as he defeathered the birds, plucking them diligently. Not once did they speak as he prepared dinner, nor did they speak while the meat cooked, or while they ate. Hal knew Murtagh was watching her as much as she was watching him. There were moments where neither of them even tried to hide it. For Hal, it felt different than how he would watch her back at the hut, as though she were someone else. Now, it was as though he were beginning to see her for the first time. As if something about her didn't make sense.

She got that a lot.

Well fed, Hal leaned forward, nudging the fire that she had made to keep it cackling. She could feel herself growing tired, but she knew she wasn't quite ready to sleep yet.

"If I answer your question, will you answer one of mine?"

She looked across at Murtagh through the fire, seeing how the light would dance in his sad eyes. She glanced down. "I suppose that's fair," she said slowly, weighing the odds and deciding her curiosity just barely won out over her need for privacy. Although she was sure he wouldn't push her for any answers she wasn't willing to give, just like she would show him the same courtesy.

Thorn watched them with tired eyes, taking a deep breath before yawning. Hal waited patiently until Murtagh finally spoke. "I became too dependable on my magic," he said in a low voice. "When I became a dragon rider, when I finally accepted it, my power…I was too angry then. I used it to do things that, under different circumstances, I wouldn't have. So, after Galbatorix was defeated, I didn't trust myself to use it. I slacked off. Got lazy. Focused on trying to survive through normal, human means and regain a sense of who I used to be. Who I thought I was."

Hal was stunned, not having expected such a heavy answer. She was about to fire off another question when she quickly remembered their deal. She gave a slight nod to show she was ready and he smiled, but it didn't last long. "Is anyone in the village kin?"

She licked her lips. "No. It's just me. Denu took me in when I was ten. I'm actually from another village; I'm not even from Illium." She wasn't sure why she offered the small bit of additional information, but she forced herself not to dwell on it. "Did you regain your sense of who you were? Did you find what you were looking for when you cut yourself off from magic and society?"

"If anything, I feel more lost now than I did five years ago. I don't know how, but I do." It was such a hard thing to admit, she knew, feeling lost. And Hal could not help but study him with a newfound respect. Even if his confession made her chest ache in grief for him in a way she had not expected. Murtagh did not seem to notice, and Hal made sure to compose her face before he did. He seemed to think carefully for a moment before asking his next question. "What really happened when Nani bucked you from the saddle?"

Hal's shoulders slumped, quietly relieved he had not followed-up on his previous question. "I know it might sound crazy but, it was as if the world had gone still. There was this silence, where I couldn't hear anything except my own breathing. And there was this strange presence, like something had been pulling on me. But it all vanished the moment you appeared, and now I'm not even sure it truly happened."

He must've gotten all the answer he needed because he nodded his head, and looked to her for her next question. Hal breathed. "The things you stand accused of doing — serving Galbatorix, leading his army, killing a dwarf king and another rider — are they true?"

The emotions that flickered across his eyes were many and few. Regret, pain, humiliation, rage. And then nothing, a mask, to hide it all from the world. However, he didn't look away, didn't hide his face from her as he said, "Yes." She swallowed. "Does that frighten you?"

She sniffed, unsure of why she was trying not to cry. Surely a man like him didn't deserve her tears. And yet…

"Yes," she admitted softly. "But mainly, it hurts more than I thought it would. I guess part of me hoped you would be a different Murtagh Morzanson with a red dragon."

He snorted.

"You carry yourself differently than I would expect someone with your past to. I can't picture the man you claim to be with the man I see before me. Which is a good thing, at least for me. Denial, and all of that. And yet…"

"I know," he said, his voice quiet. "Trust me, I know."

She bit her lip. "Do you…do you regret any of it?"

His fingers tightened into fists at his side, but otherwise he didn't show any indication that the question perturbed him. "Yes and no. I do not regret Thorn, and I do not regret my powers. I do regret how I used them, how _he_ was used." He glanced over at Thorn and his expression was so heartbreaking that Hal had to look away. She stared into the fire. "Do I…do _I_ …frighten you?"

What he was asking was no small thing, they both knew. Could she separate the man from his actions? She looked at him then, studied him. Part of his face was obscured by that awful beard, but his eyes were all she needed to see. She gave him a sad smile. "No," she admitted truthfully. "No, you do not frighten me. But I have seen you naked so that may be why?"

His expression quickly changed to one of disbelief and bewilderment, the tips of his ears going red. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Absolutely nothing, rider. That's what makes it funny," she teased with a straight face, going back to poking the fire.

He looked so absolutely mortified that Hal could not help but laugh at him. "I'm sorry, I should not tease. But Denu and Mennes were there the entire time, I promise."

"I don't know if that's much better."

He was too embarrassed to smile, but the mood shifted to something less heavy, which Hal was thankful for.

"We should get some rest," Murtagh finally grumbled, still avoiding her gaze as he settled into Thorn. Hal chuckled, preparing to roll over in the grass when Murtagh suddenly spoke out again. "Do you…?" He seemed flustered as she rolled over, looking at him over her shoulder. "You can lean up against Thorn if you'd like, since Nani ran off with your things. You can use my bag if you want."

Part of her wanted to refuse to be polite. It wasn't his fault her dumb horse had left. And yet, Hal found herself climbing to her feet, moving carefully around the fire until she was pressed up against Thorn's stomach, grateful for the offer. It was warmer than she expected, and even though the night wasn't cold, there was something comforting about the added heat, like a gentle blanket.

Murtagh passed her his pack that she laid out beside her for a pillow. As she got comfortable, she noticed the rider had hardly moved, still sitting up and eyes trained on the fire. He must've felt her gaze because he turned his head, smiling gently at the unasked question in her eyes. "Sleep, Halen. I will wake you when it's time."

She was unsure as to why the soft command had such a hold over her. But she nodded as she dropped down, falling asleep almost immediately as soon as her head touched the bag.

…

Hal had always been a light sleeper, even more so when she was out in the woods. Even the slightest change in the wind, the barely audible crunch of a leaf, could be the difference between life or death with some of the wildlife that called Illium home. So when she heard a low grunt that certainly wasn't from her dream, her eyes flew open, listening carefully. When she heard it again, she realized it was the rider and peeked over at him.

She sat up, alarmed, when she realized that he was having what appeared to be a fit. He'd had a few under her care, and she had been so anxious about waking Denu or injuring him further to get him to calm down that she could not do much for him except stay by his side, make sure he didn't reopen his wounds, and pray it subsided soon. She not once mentioned them to him, unsure if it was something he would be comfortable with her pointing out. She had told herself that were simply a result of his injuries and subsequent fevers. Her own nightmares were always worse when she was sick.

Thorn was wide-eyed, looking at her desperately. She had no doubt the dragon had done all he could to wake his rider short of walloping him with this tail. She kneeled down beside him, dodging a flailing fist that barely missed hitting her cheek. "Rider! Rider, wake up!"

If she had a bucket of water, she'd dump it on him. But she had limited resources, and the panic-stricken expression on the rider's face made her feel like she had even less time. It was as though he were being tortured in his sleep, and she was desperate to wake him from whatever nightmare that consumed him.

She paused, her thoughts giving way to an idea. Perhaps…well it's not like she had anything else to go on. The first thing she needed to do was secure his limbs before he struck her and knocked her out. And if he was anything like she had been, she fought harder when someone tried to pin her down in her sleep.

Hal straddled his waist, putting her weight on him while holding one foot out from his body, using it to keep her position and manage any weight he threw at her should he try to buck her off. Dammit. His arms were reaching for her, recognizing that someone was trying to stop him. His face was pale, his skin waxy and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. But even worse were the tears streaming down the corner of his eyes, disappearing into his hairline. Hal inched forward until she was close enough to wrap her arm around one of his, sufficiently grabbing hold.

Heavens above, the rider was physically strong despite his claims. He nearly had her hitting herself in the face. However, Hal managed to pin his arm to his side and locked her ankle around his wrist, putting her weight back on it so that he couldn't hit her, and she wouldn't hurt him either. When she finally got his other arm under control, the bucking became worse, and it was only then that she realized that depths of the horrors he must've been enduring.

She placed her hands over his cheeks to hold his head still, her thumbs gently stroking the exposed skin. She closed her eyes, reciting the words from memory as she spoke: "Imagine that you're waking up. It's not quiet morning yet. It's dark outside, the moon and the stars are still shining in the sky…"

It was a trick that Amon and the others used on her when she was a child. Denu was too old to wrangle her in her sleep, and often sought assistance from others when her nightmares made her incredibly violent. Once, she had woken up to find she had left four horrible scratches down Cado's neck. But their voices always, eventually, broke through the madness of her mind. Their words would reach her, initially uncomfortable and out of place in her dream, that slight moment where she wasn't sure where she was. Was it a memory? No, because she recognized that voice. A dream? And once her mind realized that she was, indeed, dreaming, it was like it began to respond to the words being spoken. She sometimes came in at different parts, but it was often after the ride through the woods, once she made it to the beach. The imagery of the sun breaking over the water. The colors painted in the sky. The breeze that kissed her cheeks, the smell and taste of the salt. The story used all five senses to make her focus, to help her find a setting that gave her peace. And as she focused her senses on that imagery, on the feel of the sand under her soles, or the morning rays on her skin, she began to calm down. And then…

"Halen?"

Murtagh's voice cracked in the night, and she opened her eyes to find him wide-eyed and staring back. His eyes were red, laced with confusion and pain. There was so much hurt there. Hal breathed, relieved she hadn't butchered it. She owed Amon and the others big time. Once was exhausting, and there was a point where they were waking her up like this several times a night.

"You were having a nightmare," she said in a low voice, feeling as though anything louder would wake the forest.

He blinked a few times, as though still trying to get his bearings. And for the finishing touch…

"Look at me, rider."

He struggled with it, clearly embarrassed and confused as to why she was still sitting on him. But he finally looked at her again and she gave him a soft smile. Then she took a deep inhale through her nose, and exhaled loudly through her mouth. It wasn't until the fourth or fifth time that he finally joined in, participating rather unenthusiastically until she said, "I can sit here all night. You know I will."

His lips twitched as he fought a smile. After a few moments, she could see and feel his muscles begin to relax. She moved one hand and held it over his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as well. When she was satisfied that he had calmed down, she released him, moving to the side so that he could have his personal space back.

"How do you feel?"

He cleared his throat. "Better." He sat up slowly. "Where did you learn that technique?"

She gave him a sad smile, one full of understanding. Her own hidden pain. "I've had my own night terrors since I was ten. They were bad. A lot like yours, actually. It was something that used to get me out of my own head, to help me relax."

He was quiet a moment, clearly still overcome with emotion from whatever he had dreamed. Unsure of what to say, Hal added, "If you want to try going back to sleep, I can keep watch for the rest of the night. I'm awake anyway."

He grimaced. "No, I don't think I'm up for it. But I'm sorry to have woken you up in the process."

"When it comes to the demons of the mind, rider, you have nothing to be sorry for. We've all been haunted by one thing or another when we close our eyes. There's no point in apologizing for something we can't control to begin with."

They sat in silence for a moment, Hal returning to her spot against Thorn. She stared at the fire, which still burned brilliantly as it had hours before. Murtagh shifted in his spot. "Your nightmares — did they ever get any easier?"

She was thoughtful for a few moments. "They lessened in terms of frequency. But in terms of impact?" She thought of the knife she slept with under her pillow. "Even after twelve years, it feels as though nothing has changed."


	14. Chapter 14: Pure Evil

They agreed to travel on foot again the next day, Thorn taking up Murtagh's things except for the hand-and-a-half sword he kept by his side. Halen was respectfully adamant about not riding Thorn, citing that in all of her two and twenty years of life, if there were to be any indication that she should be in the air, she would have wings of her own. "Not to mention," she had added, "We are at a disadvantage if the tracks we've followed thus far change. We'd have no way of knowing from the air."

Her logic there was completely sound. And not knowing what they were headed into, Murtagh and Thorn both agreed that it would be best if Thorn kept any eye out for any predators from above, and Murtagh would stay with Halen on the ground.

He had to admit to himself that he was not looking forward to the run. Halen looked to be in peak physical shape — not that he had noticed to be depraved. When she had worn her sleeveless tops, she had revealed toned arms. Which also made sense knowing she was extremely proficient with a bow and arrow. And while he couldn't see her legs, he had to imagine that someone who spent as much time trekking through the woods as she did had to be more than capable of even the most moderate physical exertion.

He, on the other hand, had not been modest when he had told her he had more or less let himself go. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone running, wielded his sword, or used complicated spells. He, at most, used magic to keep his fires hot in the frigid temperatures of the north or ward off any predators he was too lazy to kill with a blade — which was almost all of them, if Thorn did not get to them first. His body had more or less gone soft at this point.

So, no, he was not looking forward to embarrassing himself further in front of the woman.

"Ready?"

He must've made a face because hers broke out into a teasing smile. "If you start falling too far behind, just have Thorn come and get you."

"You little —"

She was already running, the sounds of her laughter carried away by the wind. Murtagh begrudgingly followed, ignoring that she seemed to be taunting him by going painfully slow and then speeding up at random intervals, only laughing when he cursed at her from behind.

But he forced himself to keep pushing forward, irritated at the thought of falling too far behind her. He inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, his eyes trained on Halen's impeccable form and grace, even in the woods. She moved like it was nothing, using the rocks, fallen trees, vines over the small parts of the river like it was nothing. Her feet found every mark, and her breathing remained smooth, ever the slight strain, as one mile stretched into two, then three.

The weather, at least, was somewhat more favorable, overcast and grey, so while still warm, at least the sun wasn't beating down on them either. They stopped for breaks — usually to make sure the tracks hadn't changed — panting, Murtagh rolling his eyes as Halen shot him teasing grins. They didn't say a single word, conserving as much of their energy as possible. And yet he found himself connecting with her more — even if it was on a shallow level — than when they held an actual conversation. He didn't quite understand it, but he felt it all the same, the subtle shift taking place between them.

Halen suddenly slid to a stop and Murtagh felt himself slow down, noticing how tight her shoulders had become. Not wanting to make any sudden noise, he crept quietly to her side and saw what had given her pause.

There was a temporary camp here, appearing to have been scavenged, since its abandonment, by wild animals. Knapsacks were torn to shreds, scraps of dried meat and fruit thrown around the site. There were several blankets, two partially charred and burnt from where they must've fallen into the now extinguished fire. There wasn't a doubt that this is where Halen's friends had been attacked. How the one man had gotten back was a miracle of its own. He must've run nonstop to get back to the village to let the others know what had happened.

Murtagh hesitated before glancing over at Halen, who had been unnaturally still. Her mouth was set in a hard line, her eyes filled with fury as they took in the scene around her. He felt bad for her. This couldn't have been what she had been hoping to find. He let her think in silence, confident that now was not the time to ask how she was feeling or to give condolences.

She was trying to calm her breathing, to keep her emotions at bay. When she seemed sure that she would not crack under the pressure, she finally spoke, her voice steady. "You can track, right?"

"Aye."

"Then let's spread out, look for signs of where they may have gone or what might have happened."

He nodded, moving right and unsheathing his hand-and-a-half sword while Hal went left, loosely nocking an arrow. As he walked away, he realized then how precise her steps were as they both moved without making noise. If he did not occasionally turn around to assure himself that she was still there, he'd forget entirely.

Murtagh moved in closer to where they fire had been, likely where the men had been sleeping when they were ambushed, as Hal fanned out around the perimeter. Up close, his jaw tightened at the amount of blood nearby. It was an alarming amount, and he wondered if it was from where the man had lost his hand, although there was no sign of the missing limb anywhere.

The prints left behind showed chaos and confusion. He brushed aside fallen leaves and wind-blown dirt, crouching as he found the body prints from where the men had likely been sleeping. Four bodies, and…ah-ha. He found the fifth near a tree, a smaller print likely from sitting up and keeping watch. It was hard to decipher what may have happened in the ensuing commotion, but there was only one key detail that perhaps gave him some semblance of hope.

"Their footprints lead away from the camp."

Murtagh swore violently, turning as Halen seemingly appeared out of nowhere to stand behind him. Her lips twitched, her expression playful, before returning to its sober and tense state.

"I noticed the same thing," he said, his heart still racing under his tunic. "Did the prints lead out towards you? Because everything here is too chaotic to deconstruct into a semblance of something that makes sense."

"They do, except for one set, which I presume belong to Eli." Her head tilted as she examined the scene. She didn't move for several long moments and Murtagh watched her with a mix of concern and awe.

"Amon lay here," she began, walking around what remained of the fire pit and laying down. "He's a big man, so his prints are always deeper than the others." She looked over at him. "I bet Sam took first watch, he usually does because it takes him longer to fall asleep."

"His print was over here." Mimicking Halen, he sat down right where Sam would have been sitting, gazing out in the direction the man would have been facing.

"Do you see anything unusual from there?" Halen asked.

"No."

"Neither do I."

So they moved, lying down in two other spaces. Murtagh's next print was wide, as if the individual had slept on their back. He did just that, staring up at the bit of sky that he could see between the branches of the trees and still finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"Halen, I don't see —"

He paused, losing his train of thought as he spied something high up in one of the trees.

"Rider?"

He rose carefully to his feet, his eyes narrowing carefully. There, high up in one of the trees, was an arrow. There's no way it accidentally landed that far up, yet it seemed almost preposterous that there was any predator capable of getting that high up in the tree to begin with. Although the branches were thick and sturdy, there weren't many low enough to the ground to make climbing that easy.

So what had the man — whichever one it was — been aiming for?

Halen, who had followed his gaze, was now walking towards the tree with her head down. She paused a few feet from the base. Without lifting her head, she said, "There are footprints here."

Murtagh frowned, moving to stand beside her. Sure enough, there were footprints that seemed to appear out of nowhere. There weren't any nearby, indicating what direction they had walked from. Which meant —

"They were standing in the tree," Halen muttered as if in disbelief of the words, even as she spoke them aloud. "And must've jumped after the arrow was fired. But they should've broken at least an ankle from a jump like that."

Murtagh began clearing away at the area around the prints. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there were narrow indentions in the soft ground. Not quite a full print, as if whoever it was had run on their toes and not on their full foot.

"They're fast," he said to Halen, who had kneeled down beside him to examine the prints. "They didn't bother putting their full foot on the ground, and their steps are short, much like you when you run. But the prints are not as deep as they should be, and even the weight of an average man should leave a deeper marker than this. Especially considering how much weight this kind of form carries."

Halen's expression was unreadable. "Eli said what they faced felt like pure evil. I thought perhaps he meant in terms of temperament. But now, I cannot help but wonder if he meant it wasn't human at all."

Murtagh watched her carefully before rising to his feet. Her eyes followed him as he held out his hand. "Come on. Let's follow their prints and see if we can find where they escaped to."

He had chosen his words carefully, not wanting to indicate that there was no hope yet to be found. What remained of the campsite was eerie, yes, but if their prints indicated that they had fled, then they very well may have found a place to hide.

Her face twisted in anguish and he felt his throat tighten, unable to comprehend how difficult this must be for her. But she put on a pained smile and took his hand, her eyes filled with appreciation as he lifted Halen to her feet.

They followed the group prints Halen had found where the men seemed to have fled the campsite. Murtagh could not help but notice how quickly Halen walked — anxious, he was sure. The further in they walked, the more something seemed to nag at the back of his head. Like something was wrong. Like he had forgotten something.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he really did run into Halen this time, not having realized she had stopped. He stared at her in confusion, about to ask her what was wrong, when he quickly realized that she was transfixed in fear, her eyes wide. He followed her gaze and immediately felt the blood drain from his face.

He reacted without thinking, putting a hand over Halen's mouth even though she had not said anything, and dragging her down to the ground with him, out of sight before they were spotted. However, he wasn't as graceful as he would've liked, and the sound of the leaves rustling underneath them sounded like thunder clapping in a void. The sound of eating stopped, the sound of a creature taking deep pulls of air, sniffing. There was a menacing growl and Murtagh could feel Hal shaking horribly in his arms. Her entire body was tense, and he could not blame her.

They had found the creature who owned the giant prints.

He had to think quickly, and he feared what using magic would do to his energy. He spoke quickly and quietly, casting wards over them both, hiding their scent and appearance just as a bloodied snout appeared around the bush they were hiding behind. Something wet touched his hand covering Halen's mouth, and he realized with dismay that she was crying. As if realizing what the threat of her sobs might do, she pressed her hand that wasn't pinned under his arms against his, and he feared she may suffocate herself at this rate.

They were still. Murtagh himself hardly breathed as the Lethrblaka appeared before them, turning its head and looking right where they sat, blinking its empty black eyes in confusion where it saw nothing but an empty space. Whether or not Halen knew what he had done, he couldn't be sure. But she seemed to read him based on his actions, and she kept frightfully still, making it harder to miss how terrified she was as her shaking worsened as the creature drew closer.

It sniffed the air around them, baring its teeth as it growled. Like it knew they were there, but was frustrated that it couldn't see them. Murtagh could see flecks of blood on its teeth, bits of animal gore and fur trapped in between.

He focused on maintaining the shields around them, praying it wouldn't be long before the beast moved on. Murtagh couldn't hold this magic forever like he'd been able to years before. Perhaps if he had at least been in better shape, and he cursed himself for becoming so lazy and irresponsible.

The Lethrblaka was relentless, and Murtagh couldn't understand why it seemed so fixated on sniffing them out. Like it was drawn to them. It drew closer, the sheer size of it even more commanding and intimidating up close.

And that's when he realized why something had felt off just moments before.

 _THORN!_

It was like an illusion had been severed, and he realized it wasn't just that he hadn't even noticed that something had been blocking his connection with Thorn. The entire world seemed to implode with sound, heavy gusts of wind rushing around them as if they had been held back by an unknown entity. And the sheer force of all that air pressure dropping around them was jarring as his dragon burst through the trees, as if having heard the cry of his rider.

The appearance of Thorn distracted the Lethrblaka, who released a menacing scream that made Murtagh flinch and Halen shudder, finally breaking her position to clamp her hands over her ears. But Murtagh didn't give her a chance, jumping to his feet and yanking on her arm, breaking into a sprint as he pulled her away from the fight.

But they didn't make it far when the Lethrblaka's tail whipped out towards them from nowhere. Thankfully, both he and Halen had quick reflexes, and turned on their heels so that they could drop to the ground before they were hit and thrown off their feet. Scrambling to keep moving, they jumped back up and ran for it.

The fight between Thorn and the Lethrblaka sounded destructive, biting, scratching, and brute strength bearing down on the trees surrounding them. Murtagh's chest felt tight at the conflict roaring in his heart. He did not want to leave Thorn, who was buying them an opportunity to escape. What kind of rider would he be to abandon his dragon? But he could not leave Halen on her own. He trusted Thorn to come out victorious, and that would have to be enough for now.

 _Murtagh, look out!_

He slid to a stop and only had a moment to register the growing shadow under he and Hal. He glanced up. The Lethrblaka must've slipped away from Thorn, heading straight for Murtagh and Hal with its wide jaw already open, ready to devour them both. Without thinking, he shoved Halen out of the way, standing alone as he raised his sword, but knew he would not get it up in time. He began to speak a spell to protect himself, but could not get the words out fast enough.

But where he was slow, Halen was fast. He had forgotten she had been armed, but her arrow was aimed true, hitting the Lethrblaka directly in the eye. The creature reared back from Murtagh at the last minute, screaming in agony as dark blood splattered from its injury. It's wing nearly clipped Murtagh in the jaw, but Halen, who had run towards him to get to the other side, took the hit instead, crying out as it tore open the material of her tunic, making a thin but deep cut on her shoulder. She rolled to an almost effortless stop as though she had planned it, and when she turned to face the creature again, she had somehow managed to nock another arrow. She fired again, this time hitting its other eye, blinding it completely as it writhed in agony.

Murtagh didn't hesitate, Halen having bought both he and Thorn more time. The dragon attacked once more, now with a greater advantage as the Lethrblaka tried to make sense of everything now that it had no sight to rely on.

"Halen, your shoulder —"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured him quickly. "We need to keep moving."

"We need to get to the river, a deep part of the river."

She nodded, gritting her teeth against the stinging pain of her injury. "Follow me."

She took off and he stayed right behind her, trying not to let his concern get the best of him as her tunic became stained with her blood. She ran with her bow low, an arrow loosely nocked just in case she needed to fire it immediately. But he could see how her arm was shaking even from that little bit of effort, and he couldn't imagine what the strain of pulling on the bow would do to her arm if the injury was severe.

There was a sudden, blinding pain in his thigh and Murtagh cried out as he dropped, all of his weight clamoring for his left leg. Sticking out of his right thigh was an arrow, but the head didn't go all the way through.

"Murtagh!"

She turned at the sound of his pain and rushed towards him. There was another arrow, this one missing Halen's head by a breadth. One more step… She froze immediately, eyes wide as she turned towards the direction the arrow had come from. Murtagh, shaking and clenching his jaw in pain, did the same thing. As the attacker stepped from the shadows, he felt the panic begin to set in.

"Halen, run."

"No, I'm not leaving you."

"Get the hell out of here, NOW!"

"Murtagh —!"

" _Not ssso fassst, humansss_."


	15. Chapter 15: Ra'zac

Eli must have never laid eyes on the beings that had taken the others as well as his hand. Because the sheer evil that stepped out the shadows and revealed itself to them was just that. Hal felt the feeling in her knees briefly weaken, stumbling as she laid eyes on something not quite human, not quite beast, but as if nature had sought a way to cruelly combine the two into something that would resemble both.

The fact that it could speak at all made it more utterly horrifying than the actual features itself, but that didn't mean it was anything pleasant to behold. Tall and robed in black, its form was largely hidden from view, including most of its face. But from underneath its drooping hood was a long beak — one that matched that of the giant beast Thorn was currently fighting — and Hal could not help but notice that it was currently stained with blood. She tried to swallow her fear, but her mouth was so dry that it felt more like tampering down a dry heave of panic.

" _Lower your weaponsss_ ," the creature hissed at her, its voice slithering across her skin like thousands of insects. Despite their precarious situation, the rider struggling to maintain his own strength, gripping his thigh tightly as it bled slowly from the wound, Hal's grip on her daggers tightened. She didn't dare move, the creature's bow and arrow hanging from its side. But she didn't know how skilled an archer they were, and did not want to completely risk setting them off, especially with the rider in his condition.

As she looked at its weapon, that's when she saw it. The familiar and detailed markings etched into the arrowhead. It was a unique design, done by Ayo for all of his pieces so that he could distinguish his from the others. Meaning…

"Halen."

She blinked, pulled out of her horrid thoughts as the rider looked at her, his eyes bordering on desperate. "Murtagh —?"

"I need you to run," he said in a low voice. There was another thick layer of sweat on his skin, and his breathing was growing dangerously labored. Hal frowned with concern — had the arrow pierced the artery in his leg?

" _Ssseithr oil_ ," the creature said almost gleefully, as though it had read her mind. " _A very efficient poissson_."

Hal felt the blood leave her face as she ignored the creature's warning and closed the distance between her and the rider, dropping her bow and arrow as she fell to her knees, taking his face in her hands as he finally collapsed, his weight threatening to take them both down. However, she managed to hold on, gently lowering him to the ground.

"It's going to be okay," she said in a low voice, trying to think quickly. Trying to ignore how the creature eyeing them began to take slow steps forward. "This is nothing. I can…I can —"

But what could she do? Without the threat of the monster at hand, she would push the arrow through, pray it didn't slice or hit anything of importance, so that she could cut it and pull it out. She had herbs that could help speed up poison extraction…that were currently sitting in her bag. With Nani. Dammit all. She had never heard of seithr oil — would her medicines even be of any use? How long? How long did she have? Judging by the concerningly pale face of the rider, not long. How had it already entered his system so quickly? Just how much had been coated on the arrow?

She moved back to face him, trying to appear calm and blinking back tears as stress and fear threatened to overwhelm her. Lovuk she could handle. Even the Nïdhwal had been handled by Thorn while she helped the rider. But those were creatures she knew, even in legend, and had heard of. This thing taunting them, along with the beast Thorn was currently fighting, were not even whispers in her memory. She had no idea what she was up against or how to fight it, and it didn't seem like the bargaining type.

"Halen." She shook her head, trying to block out what she knew he was going to say. But the rider got her attention by trying to sit up, and when she turned to stop him, grabbed her face in both of his hands. She could see it there, in his eyes, as he gave her a kind smile. They couldn't win this. They didn't stand a chance. And he was trying to give her one since she could still leave. "It's okay."

Her heart seized. How as he so calm? Why was he so calm? "No." But her voice broke on the word, the tears running freely now.

"It's okay," he repeated, his voice even softer than before. "I will try and give you an opening. Then I need you to run for it. I need you to run harder and faster than you ever have, okay? Don't stop until you get to deep water. Do you hear me? Deep water. They can't swim —"

"I won't leave you."

"I cannot let you suffer this fate. Please, just go."

The creature had paused, watching their interaction as if bored. " _There is no essscaping the Ra'zac_ ," it hissed.

Murtagh looked at it, a dark fire in his eyes Hal had not seen before. She shivered slightly. "You don't need us both. Let her go free; take me instead."

The creature — the Ra'zac? She had no idea if this was its name or its species — halted, then let out a sickening, dry sound that was supposed to be a laugh. She found herself clinging to Murtagh, somehow more comforted with him there than without. And perhaps it was cowardly, and the logic insufficient, but it was why she couldn't bear to leave him. Run to deep water? How long would that take? How fast could they run? And if they caught up to her, which something in her gut told her they would, what then? She didn't want to die alone, not in the very woods that her been her source of refuge and joy since the hauntings of her past.

" _Free? Why would I let her go free? Now, there'sss one for each of usss_."

What?

Hal was violently yanked by her hair and let out a scream of pain and surprise, flailing her legs as her hands immediately tried to free her scalp from the excruciating tugging. Murtagh tried to grab her, but the Ra'zac approached him and, without hesitation, slammed its foot down on the top of his injured leg. Murtagh looked sick as he screamed, and the Ra'zac bent his head back, exposing his neck, to press a blade to it. He cut the skin, but it was enough for Hal's blood to run cold.

"No don't, please!"

The creature holding her sniffed the air, sniffed her, as the wind changed, taking long deep pulls. Hal tried to shy away from it, but to no avail.

" _You_ ," the creature said in a low voice, sounding equally horrendous as the other even though she couldn't see it. " _You sssmell like our massster_."

It threw her to the ground and Hal struggled to clamor away. But the thing brought its boot down on her stomach. Although it did not seem to use much force, Hal felt completely pinned to the ground, and no amount of exertion could get it off. She thrashed and kicked like a wild woman, the warning pressure in her chest meaning very little at the threat to her own life. When she raised her blade, it kicked her hand, knocking it far out of reach. Then, with no mercy, it slammed its other boot down on her hand, and the sickening crunch that sounded, the pain as the two of her fingers snapped in opposite directions, made her scream and stop fighting.

The other Ra'zac stood, leaving Murtagh alone to come towards her. It too sniffed the air, its unseen eyes trained on her. " _Yesss. It is faint, but it isss there_."

" _What does this mean? What ssshould we do?_ "

The creatures were silent, thinking. Hal looked between the two of them, her heart racing madly in her throat. Finally, the one who appeared to be in charge said, " _Take her below. Ssssee what ssshe knowsss. And asssk her…ssslowly._ "

The implication of his words couldn't be misconstrued even if Hal desperately wanted them to. She began to shake violently, unsure of what they thought she could possibly know or who their master even was.

" _And what about the male?_ "

She couldn't see it. Was sure she never wanted to. But she could hear the gleeful smile in the creature's voice as it said, " _Masster said the humansss were not to be touched. But if the humansss came to usss...and we have not had a proper meal in monthsss_."

Hal completely lost her mind. She screamed, making a feeble attempt to get to Murtagh before she was yanked back by her hair, dragged to gods know where kicking and screaming. It never crossed her mind that they were literal prey, fodder to fatten up the monstrous mistake creation had made. And the thought of anyone being exposed to that. Victim to that. Not to mention they apparently had other plans in store for her.

Murtagh struggled to put up his own fight, but Hal could not look at him. Couldn't bear to watch it as the Ra'zac approached him, blade out as if to swipe it across his neck.

That's when she remembered.

Oh, she was so stupid, but maybe it wasn't too late. She reached for the dagger in her boot with her good hand, her left, stabbing the creature in what she presumed was still a knee. The thing let out a blood-curling howl as she yanked the blade loose, and it stumbled back, releasing her hair just enough that she could swipe the blade through what little bit was still in its hands, sufficiently freeing herself for the moment.

Cradling her right arm to her stomach, not daring to looking down at her twisted fingers and ignoring the pulsating pain coming from them, she let out a fearsome cry as she threw her arm back, ignoring the horrid sting of her shoulder, and tossed the blade at the Ra'zac. The creature managed to dodge it, which she had expected. But it backed away from Murtagh, which was all she needed. She needed to buy them time — to do what, she didn't know. She could just be dragging out the inevitable. But then so be it. If they were to die, let these bastards work for it.

When she was by his side once more, Murtagh said, "Halen, your hand."

"Kind of the least of our concerns right now, wouldn't you say?"

She grabbed her bow off the ground, wincing at the strain on her hand and shoulder as she nocked an arrow.

"Halen, please, listen to me. Just go. Leave me —"

" _No_!" Her fire had reached critical and he fell quiet as she look at him, the creatures regrouping just a few feet away. "Whatever happens, rider, I choose to stay."

She looked at him square on, let him read the determination in her eyes. She loved her village. Loved her people. But if she ran now, she couldn't return unless she knew she was no longer being hunted. The thought of unleashing these things on Denu. On Layla. No, she'd rather die. And to understand his fate, even if it was also dooming her own... No one deserved to die like that. Not alone. Fool-hearted, perhaps. But at the very least, she was keeping these things away from her village.

Something flashed in Murtagh's gaze, a resolute determination she had not seen before. His lips pulled into the first real smile she could remember seeing. "You're mad."

"I could say the same thing about you, Dragon Rider."

The bravado was false, she knew. Even as her chest tightened in fear. But Murtagh surprised her by yanking his sword up, and Hal yelped back in surprise, even though the blade was nowhere close to her. She watched, stunned, as Murtagh shakily rose to his feet, his face pale as he tightly gritted his teeth. Yet his grip on his sword was steady, his gaze ablaze with determination.

Hal grinned.

" _Kill the man_ ," the Ra'zac cried.

Hal pivoted from her crouched position and fired her arrow, and the second creature easily dodged it as it rushed them, but it did not anticipate the sudden and resounding roar that made her heart stop and leap all at once. Thorn was crashing through the trees, looking deadlier than she could have ever possibly imagined. As they all turned to look at him — Murtagh crying out in relief and joy — no one expected the spear that flew into the head of the second creature that had been moving towards Hal and Murtagh, impaling it soundly as it dropped dead. Hal froze, stunned, as a familiar cry of victory resounded in the still air. Delight and relief flooded her veins as Amon, Cado, Ayo, and Sam, sprung from the bushes and trees, weapons raised for attack. The Ra'zac hissed in distaste at the sight of an ambush and its fallen comrade, realizing it had very few options as Thorn opened his mouth, the fire building in the back of his throat. It backed away quickly as Amon ran to Hal and Murtagh's side, sprinting away with inhuman speed.

"Quick, with us!"

Amon carefully situated Murtagh on his back and Hal leapt to her feet, matching his hard strides as they took off into the woods. She glanced over her shoulder only once, happy to see that the others were following close behind, but she focused dead ahead, realizing Amon had his arms full, so it would be up to her to scout up ahead for danger and take care it.

She pushed herself to run a few feet in front, her bow and arrow ready, her hand shaking at the effort it was to hold the string with three good fingers. But she would not focus on that now. She would stay vigilant, and she would run like hell.

"We thought you all were dead," she commented breathlessly to Amon, unable to keep the grin off her face despite knowing that they weren't yet in the clear.

"We thought we were too," he grunted. He shifted Murtagh higher on his back, but the rider barely seemed to notice. Hal watched him warily, having briefly forgotten about the poison. His face was completely ashen, and she noticed, disturbed, that the wound looked like it was bubbling. "Stumbled upon those demons in our hunt," Amon continued. "Or rather, they stumbled upon us. Eli —"

"He made it back to the village," Hal finished for him, happy to be able to share some good news. "He's hurt, pretty shaken up, but he was alive, talking and everything, when I left."

Amon looked at her, his eyes wide as if he was daring to believe it. But the broad smile broke across his face and he whooped happily as they continued running, the others close behind and Thorn now flying overhead, keeping much lower so as to keep an eye on them, she was sure.

The trek back to their camp felt like journey, but she was sure it was only a few minutes. Hal's hand was burning and she wanted to make sure they could take care of Murtagh, if it wasn't too late. Everyone was tired and anxious, constantly checking over their shoulders to make sure the Ra'zac wasn't following.

They finally made it, stopping at a deep cave hidden behind a strong waterfall several meters up from the ground. Ayodele led them down a slick path, but they managed to maintain their footing. If they slipped, the fall, at least, wasn't dangerous as long as they managed to hit the water.

"How in the Heavens did you find this place?" Hal asked, looking over her shoulder at Cado.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," he said with a shake of his head.

"I think I've successfully extended my threshold for disbelief at the moment," she challenged with a wry smile. "Why don't you try me."

Cado just shook his head as she ducked towards the cave. "It was the most bizarre thing," he began. "It was pitch black, and we suddenly see this glowing light —"

But once she's inside, Hal shouted in surprise as Nani whined in delight to see her owner, Cado's story forgotten. All negative feeling dissipated as Hal ran towards her horse, wrapping her arms around the mare's neck, squeezing carefully.

"I know I say this all the time Hal," Cado said with a grin, "but you trained the hell out of that horse. No idea how she found us, but she did. Only reason we even thought to venture out. We were hoping to intercept you _before_ you ran in to those bastards. But leave it to Hal to walk right into trouble."

She gave him the finger with her good hand before turning back to Nani. "So, you didn't completely abandon me, huh?" Hal said, stroking her nose with smooth strokes. "Good girl."

Hal gave Nani a loving kiss on her cheek before moving to be at Murtagh's side as Amon carefully set him down. "How are you holding up?" she asked him with a sympathetic grimace at his leg.

"I'll be able to heal my leg, including the poison," he added, noting that she was about to ask. "So, it could be worse," he grunted.

"Could be a lot better too."

"You're a right ray of sunshine," he grunted, his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. "And if I'm the one saying it, that's saying something."

"Would it help if I held your hand and sang you a lullaby, little kitten?"

Hal shot him a teasing grin which he returned. If he was confident that he would be fine, then she was fine. And she felt bolstered by the survival of her friends and their daring escape. "Are you two done flirting?" Ayo snapped, pulling their attention away from each other. "We need to get this arrow out."

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, Hal said, "Relax, Ayo. The man has an arrow in his thigh after all. And I've been told my bedside manner could use some work." She didn't look at him, but she could tell that Murtagh was trying again not to laugh.

"It might be better to push it all the way through," Sam suggested with a pained expression. "But either way, it's going to hurt like fire."

"We definitely have to push it through," Hal agreed, wincing sympathetically.

"Doesn't matter, I'll heal it once the head is out," Murtagh said through gritted teeth. "Just don't touch it, there could still be poison on the tip." Sweat was running down his forehead as everyone moved into their positions. Hal borrowed two rags from Cado, wetting one to dab at Murtagh's head with. The other she put between his teeth.

Without thinking, Hal took his hand in her good one. She looked him in the eyes. "If you need to cry, I'll only judge you a little."

He snorted with derision just as Ayo, in one quick thrust, pushed the arrowhead through. Murtagh screamed through the rag in his mouth, his eyes watering as his grip on Hal tightened. Even she flinched as Ayo quickly and carefully broke off the head and tail, sliding what remained of the shaft through his leg, mindful of where he placed his fingers. He moved to discard the pieces over the edge of the cave and into the water below. Murtagh shuddered, but dropped the rag from his mouth. Hal stepped back and everyone watched as Murtagh healed his leg, relief spreading across his features as his pain ebbed and the skin and muscle repaired itself.

"Well I'll be damned," Sam said with an impressed look.

But if he was impressed with Murtagh's magic, it was nothing compared to his expression when Thorn burst through the waterfall. Hal didn't even realize that the cave was large enough to accompany the giant dragon, but it was as long as he kept his wings folded. On the ground, he dropped two dead deer for everyone to eat. But the men were too mesmerized by his sudden appearance to think of food. The horses shirked back nervously, whining at the sudden intrusion.

"Not bad lady and gents," Amon commented, clapping Hal on the back as he spoke. But his hand landed squarely on her right shoulder instead, jostling her injuries. She cried out, and everyone turned sharply, Amon jumping back in surprise. "Heavens, Hal, I'm sorry."

"Don't mention it," she grimaced, trying not to cry. She hated breaking fingers. And now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the full effects of the injury were kicking in with horrendous results. The cut from her shoulder was almost more bearable by comparison, but still stung.

Murtagh rushed to her side, his eyes zeroing in on her fingers first. "Let me heal them for you."

She breathed, hesitating. "We can just bandage them together. I've broken fingers before. Besides, I think you've used enough magic already." She certainly didn't want him weak and passing out with that other creature still out there.

"I'll be fine, Thorn will help me. But let me do this. Please."

She swallowed nervously, but nodded her head, caving as the pain throbbed, getting stronger with each passing second. She winced as he gingerly took her hand in his, and they both ignored how Amon flinched towards her, paranoid in case something went wrong. But Hal wasn't concerned or even afraid. Not of the rider. Not after what she just witnessed.

He spoke the same words, and his hand glowed the same red as before. Hal stared, wincing as her fingers were reset, but the pain was subtle compared to what it could've been. The light was warm, soothing even, as her fingers straightened and proper feeling returned.

When he was done, she held up her hand, as if expecting it to look different than the one she had before. Well, she supposed now it was uninjured. Yet she still marveled at it. She slowly bent her fingers, stretched them out to make sure everything seemed in order. "Absolutely wonderful, your magic," she muttered, more to herself than anything. But she gave him an appreciative smile all the same, one that he did not return as his demeanor became more sobering.

"You should have left me," he said by way of response, his voice grim. Hal rolled her eyes at him, having expected this. "What were you thinking? You could've been killed."

"My train of thought is a little more than you can handle right now, rider. But I had my reasons for staying — only one of which had anything to do with you."

"It's one more thought than I deserve," he said in a low voice, hissing it so that only she could hear despite everyone straining to hear over the disruptive falls.

"That's not who she is, Dragon Rider," Ayo said in his standard smooth, firm voice. Ever the voice of reason in their group. He crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the rider in a swift motion, no doubt assessing him like Hal had done during her time caring for him. "She has a nasty habit of running towards the very things that are not in her best interest, if only for the sake of someone else."

"Saved your ass plenty of times, didn't I?"

"Twice, Hal. It was only twice."

"Twice is more than enough in my book," she countered cockily. "And _when_ I get you lot home," she added, "I'm going to make sure you each find a way to make up all of my valiant efforts and sacrifices."

Ayo's expression was grave, however, and the mood shifted into one of sorrow. "You shouldn't have come, Hal," Sam stated, his gaze down. "It's not safe here."

"You all would've done the same for me!" she challenged, her voice tight. It was like dealing with the rider all over again after saving him. "What kind of friend would I be if I had stayed? How could I look your families in the eye and tell them everything will be okay when people they love are missing?"

"And you think we want you caught up in this?!" Cado snapped. "You think we would prioritize our safety over your own? Dammit Hal. We just wanted you to be safe."

She knew they meant well. She knew how much they loved her. Yet she still felt slighted, like she had burdened them in some way.

And then she realized what she had done. What they were trying to tell her.

Her eyes lowered in humiliation. She _had_ burdened them. Even Murtagh and Thorn. Especially Murtagh, who had known her a few short weeks, had attempted to sacrifice himself to save her. Everyone here would put her life over theirs. Had she stayed back, perhaps everyone would have found their own way back. But they had even ventured out of their safe hiding spot to find her. And Murtagh had been injured in the process. They had escaped once before, but her actions could've gotten them killed.

Her eyes burned with the unfairness of it all. She had been trying to help. She felt an indignant rage coursing through her as she curled her fingers into fists at her sides. She glanced around the room, hoping someone would say otherwise. That they appreciated her efforts. That they were glad she was here. But she was met with stone faces and wary eyes.

"Oh Hal," Amon sighed, reaching out to comfort her.

She wiped at her eyes and cheeks with defiance, her jaw tight as she backed away from him. "Excuse me, I need some air."


	16. Chapter 16: Enemies and Allies

Murtagh felt a stirring of remorse as Halen stalked out of the cave, her shoulders held tightly to keep from shaking. Her hair hid some of face as she walked away, but no one missed her tears. He didn't want her on her own, but before he or anyone else could move, Thorn was carefully turning around so that he could follow her out. Murtagh felt his own sense of anxiety at the thought of being apart from Thorn, and silently followed the dragon out as well, ignoring the stares of the men as he passed.

To his relief, Halen did not go far. She had carefully clamored down the rocky sides, jumping down onto the bank below by the pool of water. Thorn landed beside her just as she suddenly burst into tears. Murtagh froze, not having expected such an…onslaught of emotion. She dropped to her knees, hugging herself tightly as Thorn nudged the back of her head. Murtagh could feel the dragon's concern and appreciation, having heard Halen's refusal to abandon Murtagh to the Ra'zac. And with that thought, Murtagh climbed down to join her.

 _"_ This is ridiculous," Halen whispered vehemently to herself. "Stop crying, you idiot." Thorn watched her for a moment before slowly reaching out to nudge her once more. Hal turned in surprise, her eyes red and glassy, studying him carefully. Then, sniffing, she hesitantly reached out a hand, nervous. She carefully laid her palm over his warm scales. And Murtagh could see her visibly relax, barely smiling, as Thorn accepted her touch. Murtagh felt more confident moving towards her.

"Thank you, Thorn. You were so brave."

"So were you," Murtagh reminded her, coming up behind her just as she spoke. She didn't flinch, but carefully and hurriedly tried to wipe her eyes once more as he sat down in front of her, turning her head away from him as she did so. Thorn practically purred when Murtagh touched his nose, pretending not to notice as Hal dried her face. He stared pointedly at Thorn until she spoke again.

"Or apparently very foolish," she whispered with a pained smile. After several long moments, she finally looked over at him, her gaze full of guilt. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize the position I put you both in. You were separated because you were trying to look out for me. And I know you would've stayed with Thorn to fight that thing had you not been burdened with looking out for me."

"You were not a burden," Murtagh corrected quickly.

"You are too kind," she said with a shake of her head, her expression pained. "But yes, I was. I presumed that this was something I could handle. The warning signs were all there. But Ayo was right, just like Denu was right. And you were right. I rushed in without thinking. Had you and Thorn not been here today —" Her face contorted in fear at the thought.

"The feeling is mutual. Or did you forget blinding the Lethrblaka so I wouldn't get eaten?"

"That was only _after_ you pushed me out of the way to save my life. I hate to admit it, but you are quickly surpassing me in live-saving attempts."

"Do not forget that you saved my life and nursed me back to health though. That's got to count for something."

She sniffed, appearing thoughtful for a moment. "You're right," she agreed. "You are clearly rather hopeless without me."

He hadn't expected her sudden wit, and he threw his head back in laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he had done that at all. Halen laughed as well, quickly wiping her eyes and removing any final trace of her despondence. When she had calmed down some, Halen gave him a gentle, grateful smile. "Thank you, both of you, for staying by my side. I couldn't have done this on my own."

Thorn hummed pleasantly. "You're welcome," Murtagh said. "And thank you for not abandoning me. Regardless of your reasons why…it meant much to me."

She nodded, apparently becoming flustered as her eyes quickly averted themselves to the ripples in the water. As she turned her head, Murtagh saw the cut on her shoulder and cursed himself for forgetting. "Let me heal your shoulder."

She looked ready to protest, but saw the look in his eyes and stopped herself, smiling bashfully. "Yes, thank you."

Murtagh moved towards her as Halen undid the fastenings of her vest, managing to pull her good arm through, but struggling to get her injured arm out. Murtagh reached out to help, and she shot him an appreciative look as he carefully pulled her vest off. The sleeve of her tunic hung off her arm, exposing the bloodied cut on her shoulder. Halen pulled her now uneven hair over to the other side, tilting her neck some to grant him better access. The wound was, fortunately, not so deep that it had severed any major arteries, but it still bled some.

Murtagh briefly met Halen's gaze as she watched him, her curiosity obvious. He flushed and she smiled, clearly amused. He worked quickly, repairing the torn muscle and skin, Halen's eyes unwavering as she studied him. When she continued to stare, he finally caved and asked nervously, "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "You are not what I expected, is all. And I like making the infamous Murtagh Morzansson squirm."

His expression softened at her teasing, his cheeks growing flushed at her comments. It felt strange, to hear someone jest so easily with him, especially in the context of his past. He stepped back to give her some space. "How does that feel?"

Halen rotated her shoulder in various directions, stretching the muscles. "It feels good as new. Thank you."

He nodded stiffly, unaccustomed being thanked so frequently. Exhausted, he sat back, tossing his hands out behind him. Now that things had calmed down, he realized just how dangerous the situation really was. Despite Galbatorix's warning that the Ra'zac would survive, he hadn't actually expected to run into them. And a Lethrblaka — it took those creatures far longer to grow to such a size. No doubt magic was involved.

 _Thorn, how did you find us, anyway?_

 _It was like a fog lifted over my mind, and I heard you just as you called for me. I feel like such a fool. Whatever magic is blanketing this part of the island led me to believe that I was still following you and the young woman. It never occurred to me that it was an illusion._

 _And a good one at that — hopefully, now that we know, we will not be susceptible to it again. Although I still can't believe something clouded my thoughts like that. There's more at work here than either of us, or even Eragon, anticipated. And I have a very bad feeling about it._

 _Aye. I'm just grateful you're all right. When I realized what I had done —_

 _You didn't do anything. You were deceived through no fault of your own._ Murtagh's expression hardened. _We were all very lucky today._

 _Aye…_

Thorn trailed off, distracted, and Murtagh realized what had sidetracked him almost immediately. They both turned simultaneously, staring at Halen who had crept closer, and was now shamelessly staring between the two of them with wide, shining eyes.

"Halen?"

"You're doing it right now, aren't you?" she asked, her tone eager. "Talking to each other with your minds," she clarified as an afterthought.

"Yes," Murtagh said slowly.

"Outstanding," she whispered. "You mentioned in your notes that dragons and riders are connected through a sacred bond that allows them to feel emotion and communicate. Obviously since I can't see it for myself it's hard to know when you both are talking. But the last few days I've noticed that you both make random noises of agreement or disagreement or amusement, and so forth, and rider, you also make faces when you communicate with Thorn —"

"I make faces?"

 _You didn't know?_

"Obscenely so. Anyone less observant than me may not be skilled enough to notice, but you really should work on it in case you ever want to take someone by surprise."

"I'll keep that in mind," he deadpanned, but she ignored him.

Her expression wavered slightly, and Murtagh sensed that something heavier was on her mind, although it wasn't hard to gauge what it could be all things considering. But she seemed hesitant, and he'd rather let her gather her thoughts before he assumed anything.

"Those things that we fought," she began carefully. "You know what they are."

It wasn't a question, nor an accusation. Murtagh nodded. "The winged one is known as a Lethrblaka, a full grown Ra'zac, which is what the two we ran into are."

She made a face of absolute horror that, under different circumstances, would've been insanely amusing. As it was, his lips twitched as she sputtered, "You mean to tell me those things get _bigger_? And _fly_?"

"That is what you're taking away from this?"

"It's like finding out snakes have wings." She shuddered dramatically at the thought and Murtagh snickered. She eyed him. "Do not laugh at me, it is a legitimate concern."

She wasn't wrong. It was a concern, but not for the reasons she thought.

"During the war, we believed Eragon and Saphira had killed the remaining Ra'zac and Lethrblaka, of which there were two each. However, Galbatorix told us that he had laid Ra'zac eggs all around Alagaësia. I didn't want to believe him."

"What are they exactly?"

"It's hard to assign them any simple description."

"Oh? Because I was thinking giant, man-eating, talking bird."

"You're certainly full of humor."

"Only to keep from crying, rider." The sobering thought hit them both hard, and Halen looked away, as though embarrassed when, in actuality, Murtagh understood exactly how she felt. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable by dwelling on her comment. He gave her a kind smile to let her know that he knew exactly what she meant. She smiled back. "So? The Ra'zac?"

"Well, you saw them for yourself, and that's about all anyone knows about them." He spent the next few minutes explaining their supposed origins, along with their strengths and weaknesses, which Halen found quite engaging.

"Why would they be on an island if they fear water and hate sunlight? That's practically all Illium is known for."

 _It does seem rather counterintuitive_ , Thorn stated in agreement.

"Well obviously there are still areas of the island they can roam without worry. And they thrive in the cover of night, so we will have to be careful. Not to mention Ra'zac can't use magic, but a magic user had to put those wards up that kept Thorn and I from realizing we could not sense each other."

Her eyes widened. "The presence in the village! The one that Thorn and I sensed — could it have been them?"

Murtagh looked to Thorn, then relayed the dragon's comment aloud to Halen. "Thorn thinks it's a possibility. He's never had to face off against them, so he wasn't familiar with their scent. But he is now, and you can rest assured he won't let them slip past again."

Halen shuddered, clearly distressed by this. She was quiet a moment, thinking, when another, terrifying thought came to her. She looked at Murtagh, eyes wide. "It said…it said I smelled like their master. Could that be the magic user?"

Murtagh could hear it in her voice, what was really bothering her. He leaned forward, close enough that she could not miss what he said next. "I won't let anything happen to you. I don't know what's going on here, but I won't let them take you."

"I don't know anything, I swear —"

"I never said I doubted you," he told her quickly, hearing her panic. He had seen the fear in her eyes when they had threatened her. Halen had as much involvement in this as he did.

Her shoulders slumped, relieved. "Thank you."

He nodded, pulling away and looking up at the cave where the others were waiting. But to his surprise, he saw four faces quickly duck behind the cover of a rock, and he shook his head. "It seems we have an audience."

Halen frowned, looking over her shoulder at where her companions had just taken refuge. She rolled her eyes dramatically. "They're so nosy."

"I'm sure they're just being protective —"

"No, trust me, they're being nosy." She stood to her feet, picking up a decent-sized rock and tossing it in her hand, weighing it carefully. "I tell you. Condescend me for trying to find them and yet they still have the _audacity_ to _spy_ on me _like I'M STILL A CHILD!_ "

With surprising strength, she hurled the rock at the direction of the others, and Murtagh snickered when someone yelped in pain. There were shouts and laughter as the men ducked away, scurrying back towards the cave. Halen wiped her hands, turning as she then placed her hands on her hips. "Honestly. I can't take them anywhere."

Murtagh felt a sense of sadness and longing he hadn't anticipated at the playfulness of the group. It was obvious how close they were — how much they all cared for one another, even from what few interactions he had observed. He studied Halen carefully, wondering what it would be like to have someone like her for a friend. Someone who would rush into danger on his behalf without a second thought. Someone with which he could laugh and jest, even after arguing with them.

 _What am I? Decoration?_

Murtagh snickered. _I didn't mean it like that, Thorn. You know I didn't._

 _Humph. Clearly, I should shake you loose before I grow too attached and you hurt my feelings._

 _Do not joke so lightly, you'd break my heart._

Thorn seemed greatly satisfied at that, but shoved Murtagh back with his nose for good measure. He turned to find Halen watching them with a small smile on her face. A kind smile. "What?"

She shook her head. "You two are adorable, that's all."

"Adorable?"

 _Adorable? Tell her I am a fierce dragon._

"Thorn is a fierce dragon."

"Oh, of course."

"Many have trembled in fear at the mere sight of him."

She gasped in mock horror as he began to follow her back to the cave.

"Not to mention I am considered one of the most powerful spellcasters and swordsmen in the land."

"You can argue all you want, but Thorn liked watching me do laundry and I have seen you naked. It really undercuts your arguments."

He scowled. "I told you to stop bringing that up."

She threw her head back and laughed. "I will toughen you up somehow, little kitten, just you see."

…

Never, and he meant never, had Murtagh been around a more rowdy, tight-knit group of people than this one. Ayodele, or Ayo as he preferred to be called, Amon, Cado, Sam, and Halen. Even though Halen was both the youngest of the group and the only woman, there was something about her personality that not only worked well with the others, but somehow centered everyone. Where Ayo and Amon were often more serious and diplomatic, Cado and Sam were teasing and loose. And then there was Halen, nestled comfortably in between, swearing and joking with the best of them, but just as quick to sit back and observe, laughing and offering the occasional comment instead. And although her relaxed state made it hard to take his eyes off her, he could not help but watch this unbelievably upbeat group weather a difficult situation.

"You bastard," Halen swore, interrupting his thoughts as she pointed an accusing finger at Cado. "The _only_ reason I even confronted Tengene is because _you_ told me to. You nearly got Denu kicked off the council for that stunt! Tengene has hated me ever since!"

"They weren't going to kick your old man off anything," Cado countered. Murtagh hated that he missed what happened. "No one would've wanted to be at the receiving end of your mouth if that happened."

"I'm telling your wife, you ass."

"Go ahead — she doesn't scare me."

"You're a damn liar," Amon teased. "Remember that time Eniola chased him out the house after he brought ticks into the hut?"

The group was bowled over with laughter, and even Murtagh could not help but smile at their antics as Cado pouted miserably for getting called out.

"I think he ran faster from her than he did from those demons," Sam hooted, clutching his stomach.

"It wasn't that funny," Cado grimaced, but that only made everyone laugh harder. He noticed Murtagh staring in silence, clearly out of place, and said quickly, "All of you are being rude. Not including Murtagh in our conversation."

"Don't try to deflect by bringing him into this," Halen quickly countered, wiping her eyes with her hand. He couldn't help but gaze briefly at her long fingers, glad he had been able to heal them for her.

"No, actually, he's got a point," Sam added, looking at Murtagh curiously. "We don't know much about the rider."

"That's because it's none of your business."

"You got a story, Morzansson?"

"He doesn't have to answer that," Halen snapped, growing more pressed as she realized how serious the others were. She looked at him. "You don't have to answer that."

"He's a grown man, Hal," Ayo said in a low voice, less playful now. "Let him speak."

"Ayo —"

"It's all right, Halen," Murtagh said in a low voice, hating that the attention was on him. But it was only a matter of time anyway. Nothing good ever lasts.

"See, he says it's fine," Cado said lightly, as if realizing that mood went down faster than what he had been going for when he was simply trying to divert the attention of his friends off of him.

"This is not the time or the place," Halen said in a low voice, warningly.

"Now's the perfect time and place," Sam countered. "He's the one with the sordid past, not us. And he's been traveling with you, hasn't he?"

"Only for a couple of nights, and he's done nothing wrong."

"Halen, it's fine," Murtagh said gently.

"It's not!"

He looked at her, trying to understand her rationale. Understand why she was so upset and defensive on his behalf. She stared at him, as if trying to understand how he could be so calm and unassuming.

She turned on the others. "All you need to know is that if it were not for him and Thorn, I would be dead. They did not have to come, and they accompanied me here to look for all of _you_ ingrates. And considering that monster is still out there, his past is currently the least of my concerns. So no, we will not turn what was a light-hearted conversation into an interrogation into someone's past when they have no inclination or desire to reveal it. Am I clear?"

Murtagh's face was hot, the only sound in the cave was the cackling of the fire. He, nor anyone else, could take their eyes off of Halen, who was growing increasingly flustered. It was similar, he realized, to that moment when she had snapped at him for being ungrateful, and then had looked almost regretful about it.

Almost.

But even then, just like now, there was shame in the eyes of the others that indicated that there was truth to her words. She ran her hand over her face. "I'm going to go lie down."

Everyone was quiet as Halen vacated her spot by the fire, walking over to Nani with her head down. Then she grabbed her blanket and walked over to the entrance of the cave, sitting down at the furthest spot from the others as possible, her back to the group.

Several minutes passed in silence before Amon said in a low voice to the others, "She doesn't like to talk about anything to do with the war."

Murtagh and the others flinched. Murtagh felt his throat constrict, shame making his cheeks and eyes burn at the thought. Had her family been a casualty of the war? But how? No one on Illium seemed to have even been remotely concerned with the on-goings of the mainland. Then he grimaced as he remembered. She had said she wasn't from Illium.

A shadow passed over him, and Murtagh glanced up as Amon sat down beside him, smiling broadly. He had a rather soft and passive face for a man that stood a head or so taller than Murtagh, and was perhaps twice as thick with muscle. Although his head was bald, his beard more than made up for it in thickness, black with bits of grey sprinkled throughout.

"Amon Geraldsson," the man said, holding out his hand. Murtagh hesitated, but eventually decided to be polite and reached out to shake Amon's hand. His smile was unbelievably kind and wholesome, it almost hurt to look at. This was the man whose hut Thorn had accidentally destroyed — Hal had mentioned it when he first awoke. "Known Hal since she was young. Fearsome, even then. And always a remarkable judge of character. She's sharp, that one. Hardly anything gets past her."

Murtagh snorted. "I've noticed."

The man chuckled. "Ah, I'm sure you have, Dragon Rider. Well Hal is the type of person who always trusts her gut and always puts others needs before her own. If she thought enough of you that she accepted your help to find us, then I know everything about you that I need to."

Murtagh stared, stunned at how easy the man made it all sound. Of course, Murtagh wasn't about to argue the semantics with him.

"Thank you, Murtagh, for keeping our girl safe."

Amon clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. And for the first time, Murtagh felt a tinge of warmth spread through his chest at the feeling of being accepted — not for who he was, but for the good he had done.

…

Hal tightened her blanket around her shoulders, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at nothing but loud, rushing water from the falls that blocked her view to the outside world. But now that it was dark, she had less of a desire to step foot outside on her own.

She had reacted too harshly, she knew. She would have to apologize later, but her hands were still shaking from nerves and adrenaline at the thought of the conversation tilting towards the one area she had been adamantly avoiding with Murtagh. She already had her own qualms with the war that she did not want to think about. But more than that, she couldn't do it. Having traveled with him, having talked with him more, Hal had soon realized that Murtagh had a personality that she liked. She couldn't quite explain it in words. But she had felt it when he had tried to stay optimistic for her when she was searching for her friends, or how he had squeezed her tightly, trying to comfort her when the Leather — Leatherblacka? She couldn't remember how to pronounce it — had been sniffing them out.

But none of them had seen his eyes when he told her to run and save herself. He had been genuine, afraid for her. And he had been willing to risk his life for her. Those emotions couldn't be faked. Yet all she had seen of him and heard from him would clash with the man of his past. And whenever they did finally part after all of this was over, she wanted to remember him as he was now, for the sake of her own conscience.

"If you stare any harder, you'll burn a hole through the water."

She rolled her eyes. "And if you keep trying to make me feel better, we will become the talk of the village."

Murtagh grinned as he sat down in front of her. "I'm beginning to think you're ashamed to be seen with me."

"There's worse company I could be keeping. But I'm just warning you that we villagers have nothing better to do than hunt, sew, and gossip about each other."

"I think that sounds exciting."

"I'm sure it does after getting an arrow pushed through your leg."

They were both silent for a beat. "You didn't have to defend me back there." Hal turned her head, having already guessed he would tell her this at some point. "They're not wrong for being concerned for your well-being."

She shook her head, unable to comprehend his reasoning. "You are adamant about people seeing the worst in you, rider."

"Some would say that is all there is to me to begin with."

"Some might, yes. But not all. I certainly would not, nor would Thorn. I presume Eragon would not since he thought enough of you to send you out here —"

"That, or he _really_ hates me."

But Hal could hear the teasing in his voice, even if his expression remained neutral, and she smiled. "My _point_ ," she continued, "is that eventually you will need to decide for yourself the kind of man you wish to be, rider. And when you decide, do what needs to be done to become that man. If you want to be a good man, continue to take a woman's face in your hands and tell her with sincere eyes to run for her life while you sacrifice yourself to man-eating birds."

"Man-eating, _talking_ birds."

Hal snapped her fingers. "Right you are."

She settled back against the wall of the cave, chuckling as Murtagh moved to sit beside her for the support as well. Amon called out to them and Hal shouted back, agreeing to take first watch. At that, Amon pounded his chest twice, and Hal gave him a soft smile before doing the same. She saw Murtagh's eyes brighten in understanding from when she had done it to him before. As the others settled down, Hal felt a strange sense of tension sitting beside Murtagh. Yet she also felt the most at ease than she had before.

"I admit," she began, "that part of my reasoning for not wanting them to pester you about your past was rather selfish as well." She looked over at Murtagh who was watching her carefully, listening, and she looked away, embarrassed. "I just hate being reminded of it. I'm so used to walking in elements of black or white that I forget what a grey area looks like. I don't regret anything, that's not what I'm saying. I just —"

"I know," he said with a heavy sigh. "Trust me, I know."

And she knew, without a doubt, that he did know. He understood the burden of having a past like his, and the position it put him in — put her in — in moments like these. She wanted so badly to inquire as to what led to the forlorn regret in his eyes. Did he not want to serve Galbatorix or did he simply come to regret his decision to do so?

But she didn't ask, because she didn't think she'd like the answer. So instead, she asked, "What happens next?"

Murtagh nodded, as if he had been thinking about this very thing. "I want to perhaps take tomorrow to rebuild my strength. I want to go after that last Ra'zac, see what it knows. And then I'll destroy it, along with whatever wards have been put up here. I just hope there are no more surprises."

"I'm sure it's already a reach, but is there any way I or the men can help? We aren't magic users, but we're damn good hunters. You shouldn't have to do this on your own."

He gave her an appreciative smile. "I think Thorn and I can manage. But thank you, Halen."

Hal recognized that she was in no position to argue, and she was quietly grateful for the ability to pull back a bit. As much as she wanted to help, she was in no condition to fight a Ra'zac. She would probably slow Murtagh and Thorn down rather than be of any use. But she still felt a little guilty for being so useless.

"May I ask you a question?" Murtagh asked. He seemed rather serious, and Hal slowly nodded her head, unsure of what to expect. "Why didn't you run?" He turned to look at her. "You could've died. I was going to give you an out and yet you didn't take it. Why?"

Hal licked her lips, feeling her cheeks burn with her own foolishness. She stared down at the ground for a bit, knowing he would expect an honest answer. "There are multiple reasons. The main one being my own cowardice. I was scared, and I didn't trust myself to run fast enough. And I fear dying alone more than I fear death itself." He inhaled sharply, but otherwise didn't respond. She pressed forward. "I also would have felt responsible for what may have happened to you if I left you behind. I could not leave you without putting up some kind of fight. Lastly, I feared that if we did not stop the Ra'zac then they would find their way to the village. Whether by tailing me or some other means. I want to see them destroyed. I will not let harm come to my people."

She exhaled, then shrugged before glancing over at the rider. "There you have it. Clearly not as spectacular as you thought, huh?"

His gaze was unwavering and she struggled to maintain eye contact. "More so, if I dare say it."

She blushed in surprise. "You are too loose of tongue in your praise, rider. I did nothing to deserve it."

"Well then we shall agree to disagree." His expression softened, becoming almost sad. "Whatever kindness you continue to extend to me, I implore you to let it go. You may feel a level of responsibility to my well-being, but I cannot have that be your undoing. And it is a selfish request, but I do not want your death on my conscience."

"Why?" She asked, tilting her head with genuine curiosity.

He looked pained at the thought of answering, yet did so anyway. "You remind me of someone."

She recalled the way he would search her face, as if looking for someone. The idea of it was rather unnerving, and he seemed to think so as well in the way he avoided her gaze, as if embarrassed.

"Someone you loved?" He didn't answer, but his jaw was tight. Hal sighed. "Well," she continued, pressing forward, "I don't know much about _that_ kind of love." Her throat grew tight and she glanced down as well. "But I do know a lot about loss. And how it feels to drown in sorrow until you can barely stand being trapped inside your own skin, let alone your own head. It is crippling and perhaps one of the most frightening things a person can endure." She looked over at Murtagh again and smiled, even though it hurt to do so. "So, it is hard for me to devalue any life, whether it is my own or that of a stranger's, because I have learned the hard way how precious it is. And I think you have too. I cannot simply care less because you ask me to do so. But I do appreciate your concern for me all the same. So thank you, rider."

Murtagh looked torn between awe and arguing, but stopped himself. "You are certainly not what I expected," he mumbled.

"And your life is all the richer because of it," she added haughtily. She poked his cheek. "You're welcome."

He raised a brow. "I never thanked you."

"After our conversations, I have decided that I will accept implied as well as verbal. A woman learns very quickly how to deal with the egos of men. And that is by generally accepting that although she must care for them in almost every capacity, she will never be properly thanked for it. It is the burden of all women —"

"Thank you, Halen."

She faltered. "Rider, I was just teasing —"

"Thank you, Halen," he repeated, his tone and gaze sincere. Hal swallowed, unsure of why she felt nervous at the look in his eyes. Her tongue felt thick, and all she could do was nod to show that she heard him. And satisfied with that, Murtagh turned away and leaned back against the wall in silence.

"You should get some rest," Hal said after a while. He looked ready to argue but she shook her head. "You said you wanted to regain your strength. In order to do so, you need rest. You used a lot of magic today. There's plenty of us that I'll make sure you sleep through the night. We can keep watch for now."

Murtagh slowly nodded his head, thinking it better than to argue with her. "Thorn will remain awake with you," he added as he rose to his feet.

Hal rolled her eyes. "You just had to get the last word in, didn't you?"

He smiled softly. "Goodnight Halen."

She smiled back. "Goodnight, Murtagh."


	17. Chapter 17: Taken

Truth be told, Hal was grateful to take first watch. Her mind was too full of information to grant her any sleep tonight. So instead she pulled her sketchbook out of her bag and paced the floor of the cave, trying to read her notes to calm her mind but hardly paying them any attention.

She stopped mid-pace and, once again, found her gaze resting on the sleeping form of the rider. He slept on his side, his back to her, and yet she still felt foolish and self-conscious staring at him. She didn't know what made the least amount of sense: the sudden and nefarious appearance of the Ra'zac or the notion that she could actually be enjoying the rider's company.

Hal felt Thorn's gaze on her and turned to face him, finding his eyes teasing. "Oh, shut up," she whispered, flustered and hoping he would not report her strange behavior to the rider. She continued to walk back and forth, closing her book and hugging it to her chest, no longer able to pretend she was doing nothing more than reading. Her head was beginning to hurt from the multitude of thoughts vying for her attention and dissection.

Feeling too much confliction thinking about the rider, she instead focused on the Ra'zac. All she knew about them was what Murtagh had told her. Her first instinct was that they were perhaps the reason the little girl Murtagh was looking for was even in danger. The timing of it all was too coincidental — and Hal had always been taught that things happened for a reason, whether she liked the reason or not. And if she thought about it…

The appearance of the Leatherblaka — or whatever it was called — would coincide with the strange behavior of the lovuk. Especially if she assumed that they had shown up around the same time Eragon had started having visions of the child, which would have been a few months ago as well. A predator of that size would disrupt the natural order of things, especially if it fed on the same population of animals that the lovuk did. Hal bit down on her lip to keep from gasping out loud. That was it! The lovuk were looking for a new food supply, it would explain why they had changed their hunting patterns and were coming dangerously close to the village. They were desperate, they had no choice. And then add Thorn into the mix, and the balance of the island tilted completely.

Hal sighed. It was almost too easy.

With one mystery solved, Hal decided to then focus on trying to figure out how she could help the rider with his dilemma. There were not many villages on Illium to begin with, and Hal was only closely familiar with one, aside from her own. And there was no child matching the description he had given her in either village. It was still possible that the child was somewhere else — although apparently Illium was the only option according to Eragon. Would any of the other villages listen to them long enough to cooperate? It seemed far-fetched, but Murtagh insisted that Eragon was adamant about the child's safety. Hal didn't want to leave it to chance if she could help, but she needed more information.

Hal sat down against the wall near Nani, crossing her legs and closing her eyes, trying to think. She could feel a vein throbbing on her temple in frustration. There were so many holes, clues and key details she was missing. It wasn't long before she was back up and pacing again, Thorn's eyes following her diligently, and she half wondered if Murtagh had told the dragon to literally keep an eye on her at all times or if the dragon had just taken the request to heart. Either way, the thought made her smile and, teasing Thorn, she stopped and winked at him.

He winked back.

Grinning hard, Hal continued moving about the cave to keep herself awake and alert. She sharpened her blades, stole arrows from Cado that he owed her, and went through Amon's bag for snacks. Confident she had successfully killed half-an-hour of her time, Hal dragged herself out towards the entrance, sitting out of the view of any potential assailants, but still granting herself a bit of the night sky, unperturbed by the spray of the falls.

Despite the danger around them, Hal felt a strange stirring of peace. There was an innate comfort to be found in the forest. One that quelled the nerves in her heart and the fear in her mind. She breathed. She wished it could always be like this.

"I know that sigh," a voice said from behind her.

Hal turned and grinned. "Don't you need your beauty rest, old man?"

Amon shot her a reproachful look as he settled down beside her. Then, too annoyed by the spray from the falls, stepped around her so that he was a little further out. Hal moved closer. "What are you doing up anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep. Too anxious."

"About the Ra'zac?"

"Among other things."

Something in his tone made her look over at him, and his gaze was heavy. She knew immediately what — or rather who — he was referring to. "Can we not do this now?"

"Then when, Hal? What do you really know about him? Can we trust him?"

"It's not about trust, Amon —"

"Then explain it to me, Halen. Because it took you years to open up to us and you are chatting with him like you are old pals. Need I remind you of the crimes he stands accused?"

"You know I love you all to death, but I'm getting sick and tired of you all presuming I'm incapable of common sense. I'm aware of what he's done and who he has served. But it does not negate the fact that he was there when no one else was. Or has it not occurred to you that I am the only one from the village here right now?"

His expression indicated that he was very much aware of that, and Hal felt a sting of remorse at her outburst. "I do not trust him," she continued in a low voice. "Nor does he trust me, I am sure. But I am in no position to turn down his help when he has offered it from what I believe to be an honest and kind place. His sins are his own and between whatever god or gods he serves. My priority is getting you all home and making sure that Ra'zac does not follow."

Amon nodded. "All right, all right, I won't bring it up again."

"Thank you." As an afterthought, she added, "You know, if you tried talking with him, you might be surprised." He certainly managed to surprise her on occasion.

The man stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I will be sure to keep that in mind."

But Hal was only half paying attention, distracted as a few rocks that had fallen loose from the structure above tumbled down behind Amon. She watched them, and her eyes grew wide at the implication. She looked up, but the Ra'zac had already moved to strike. Its beak clamped down on Amon's shoulder and the man's face twisted from surprise to pain, screaming as blood spurted from the injury, his arm dangling limply at his side.

Hal shouted, unfurling as she drew her dagger and lunged for the Ra'zac. The creature released Amon, whose eyes fluttered close as he went into shock. Hal scrambled to catch the man, but he fell from the ledge and into the dark water below.

"AMON!"

The Ra'zac easily dodged her attack, moving with an inhumane speed. It gripped her wrist and twisted so tightly that Hal dropped her weapon, falling to her knees out of fear it would break her arm. Then it slammed its fist into her stomach so hard that she momentarily blacked out, fighting the urge to throw-up as her body went limp. The Ra'zac tossed her over its shoulder and began the hasty climb back up the cliff wall.

"HALEN!"

She couldn't tell whose voice it was, but she could hear the urgency. She tried to loosen her tongue. To warn them about Amon. But she couldn't think straight, struggling to maintain what little consciousness she did have in the wake of such a painful blow.

By the time the Ra'zac reached the top of the cliff, however, feeling and movement were returning to her limbs. She began to struggle so violently that she actually managed to catch the Ra'zac off guard, and they both went toppling to the ground. She scrambled towards the edge, but the creature was fast, grabbing her ankle and dragging her back. Hal dug her fingers into the ground, trying to find something to grip. She kicked mercilessly, but the Ra'zac seemed unfazed by her efforts, which frightened her all the more.

Suddenly, the light from the moon went out and Hal felt a chill sweep over her. But her worries were soon cast aside when she recognized the bulky shape of Thorn. She cried out in relief as the dragon righted himself, his red eyes menacing and unforgiving as it eyed the Ra'zac, who let out a loud shriek at the threat. Murtagh sat atop, his mouth pressed into a hard line, his eyes cold. Even Hal flinched, momentarily frightened by the look on his face.

Thorn angled himself towards the ground and shot towards the Ra'zac as Murtagh raised the sword in his hand. And Hal's momentary delight was short-lived as a fully-grown Ra'zac seemed to appear out of nowhere, teeth bared as it latched on to Thorn's neck, knocking him off course. And Hal realized then that the noise the Ra'zac had made had been a cry for help, not one of fear. It hadn't come alone.

"No!" Hal shouted.

But before she could move, the Ra'zac got a fistful of her hair and yanked hard before slamming her head down into the ground. Not once, but twice. And Hal knew no more.

…

Murtagh was furious with the Ra'zac. But worse of all, he was furious with himself. He had not been paying any attention to his surroundings, so focused he had been on reaching Halen and destroying the Ra'zac. And now he could only watch helplessly as the Ra'zac violently knocked her out and sprinted her off. He should've anticipated there would be another Lethrblaka, and now it would cost Thorn and Halen greatly.

 _My injuries are nothing_ , Thorn snapped, pulling Murtagh out of his reveries. _I need you to focus, young one. I cannot worry about you and this monstrous snake at the same time._

Murtagh shook his head, trying to clear his mind so that he did not bog Thorn down with his worries. But he feared for Halen in ways he did not anticipate. He could not leave her at the mercy of the Ra'zac.

Gritting his teeth at his own failure to properly protect her, he steeled his resolve.

 _I must keep my magic to a minimum since we will also need to rescue Halen and I am still weak_ , he admitted, feeling irritated with his own uselessness. _But I will aid in whatever way I can._

 _Leave it to me!_

Thorn seemed increasingly enthusiastic at the opportunity to take down the beast. Although it had been a while since he had faced a true opponent, not including the Nïdhwal of course, Thorn still had his brute strength and overall ferocity as an advantage. Although the Lethrblaka was strong and fierce in its own right, Murtagh could sense Thorn's overwhelming determination to finish the fight as quickly as possible.

Although dragons were at ease fighting in the sky, it still gave Murtagh a strange rush as Thorn twisted and turned, making sure Murtagh stayed out of the way of the Lethrblaka's beak and claws. Thorn soon got the beast between his teeth, tightening his grip on its neck.

"Thorn, keep him down!"

Murtagh jumped up from his saddle and ran down his dragon's neck, careful not to look down and using his momentum to keep his balance. Although the thrashing Lethrblaka threatened to knock him to the ground, Murtagh moved quickly. He jumped from Thorn to the winged beast, where he had a much harder time maintaining his footing. Using the spikes protruding from the back of the creature's neck to hold on to, he reached the top of the beast's head and turned the blade of his sword down, shouting as he impaled the Lethrblaka.

The creature screamed, writhing in agony as it attempted once more to throw Murtagh off. But it was no matter. He pulled back his blade and jumped, Thorn easily managing to catch him with his tail. The Lethrblaka crashed into the ground, still fighting for its life as Thorn descended towards the ground. He set Murtagh down first, who was attempting to catch his breath, before stalking towards the Lethrblaka with murder in his eyes. He took the flailing neck in his jaw again and tore it from the creature's body, throwing over the cliff in a silent victory.

"Rider!"

He looked over his shoulder, turning in surprise as the men rushed forward. Between Cado and Ayo was Amon, soaked and covered in blood from an injury on his shoulder. Murtagh swore, rushing forward as they set the man down carefully. He was about to question how they carried him up so quickly when he saw the horse being cared for by Sam.

"That bastard took Hal," Amon groaned, his face sickly as Murtagh kneeled down in front of him.

"I know. I'm going to get her back." And he was going to carve a hole in the Ra'zac's chest when he found her.

After he healed the worst of Amon's injury, the man rose to his feet, still looking unsteady because of the amount of blood he had lost. But his face was determined, as were the others, and Murtagh knew what was coming.

"How can we help?" Cado asked quickly, following him as Murtagh headed towards Thorn.

"You can stay here and out of my way. Halen won't forgive me if anything happened to you." And he would work faster if he didn't have to worry about any more innocent lives.

"Then you don't understand that we cannot sit idly by and do nothing if that bastard has her!" Cado countered hotly.

"Use us, rider," Sam cut in. "For whatever you need to do. However you need to find her. Use us. The more of us, hopefully they faster we can work."

His argument made sense, but Murtagh still hesitated. This was not their fight. This shouldn't even be Halen's fight. Hell, he didn't even know if this was _his_ fight. But the thought of getting anyone else involved with the Ra'zac made his stomach curl. These weren't court royals or Varden dignitaries or even soldiers, playing with the lives of others like it was a chess game. These were innocent people. People who have likely never seen war, who have never seen anything like the Ra'zac. And the thought of opening that exposure even further than it already was…he couldn't bring himself to do it. Couldn't bring himself to further soil a place that, up until now, Galbatorix hadn't been able to taint.

Halen had come all this way to save these men, and now they were risking everything to save her. It was honorable, and Murtagh could not help but admire it.

"I cannot protect you all if things go wrong," he warned them.

"Halen is your priority, as is ours," Ayo said smoothly without batting an eye.

Murtagh still had his reservations, but if they insisted…

"Thorn, can you still pick up her scent?" Murtagh asked.

 _Aye, but we must hurry. The Ra'zac is moving quickly in the cover of night and we do not know how much ground we will need to cover. I fear they have a grave advantage over us._

Murtagh nodded. To the men, he said. "Get the horses. Keep up if you can, but I will not slow down for anything until I've reached Halen."

…

Hal had not stopped shaking since the Ra'zac bound her wrists together and hung them from something — a hook perhaps, but she couldn't tell — above her head. She was kneeling on the wet ground, her pants soaked at the knees. Her clothes were filthy from where she had dragged herself through the dirt, trying to slow the bastard down, trying to escape. But they had traveled so quickly, inhuman speeds, that it seemed like they had already traveled several miles. How much time had passed?

And they were underground, no less. Deep. She could hear parts of the river passing overhead. Had these tunnels always been here, or did the Ra'zac make it themselves? She could discern nothing because it was disturbingly dark. There was no waiting for her eyes to adjust and no hope of light from above filtering in. And yet, she could hear the Ra'zac move around like it was nothing.

She didn't dare speak, trying to twist and pull at the rope confining her arms in the hopes of either hand breaking free, ignoring the burn it left on her wrists.

" _You cannot essscape the Ra'zac_ ," the creature hissed, closer than Hal had anticipated. She yelped in surprise, jerking away. But she could feel the creature following her, and no amount of shirking away would dissuade it. She heard it take a deep breath, smelling her, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out.

" _Yesss_ ," it hissed. " _You sssmell exactly like our massster. Could it be…could it be…_ "

"P-p-please," Hal whispered, feeling pitiful and small as she spoke. "I d-d-don't kn-know anything."

" _We ssshall sssee, won't we? Yesss, massster will reward me handsssomly for thisss. But firssst, mussst be sssure. Mussst be sssure._ "

She heard the smooth sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath, and Hal began thrashing and screaming in a panic. Everything felt worse, felt heightened, because she may as well have been blind. There was no gauging when the attack would come, only fighting back as best she could until it did.

When the knife tore through the material of her vest and tunic, Hal's mind went completely blank. No, no, no, no, no — this wasn't happening. Not again. The creature ignored her as her back was exposed, and she stiffened as it ran the blade down the skin and scars that adorned it. Hal flinched as her legs became wet and warm, the stench of her own urine hitting her, flush with humiliation at a response that she had no control over.

Hal thought it would at least ask her a question first, assumed it was trying to gauge what she knew about whatever master this thing served. But no questions came, nor did any warning. Something liquid was poured down her back. It didn't feel like much, but it didn't take long before a scream was ripped from her throat. Whatever was inching down her back felt like liquid fire, eating away at the top layer of her skin.

The burn waned, but it was still there, and Hal's screams fell to tightly gritted teeth, tears running down her face as she tried begging one more time. "P-Please, whoever you th-th-think I am, you're w-w-rong.

Its only response was to click its beak before pouring more liquid down her back. Hal screamed again, arching her back in the blinding pain.

 _Please._

The liquid was poured again.

 _Anyone._

The Ra'zac hissed in irritation, as if it was expecting something to happen.

 _Save me_.


	18. Chapter 18: Follow the Light

The sun was beginning to creep over the horizon, and they still had not found Halen. Murtagh was sore and irritable from being up all night, and his nerves were bad. But he knew his feelings paled in comparison to the others. Although Murtagh could sympathize, he was growing frustrated with their lack of progress, feeling like he was being dragged down, not assisted. But he had agreed that they could follow, so he could only complain so much.

As far as anyone could tell, even Thorn, Halen's trail had gone cold. The Ra'zac must've changed up how it was transporting her, because even its footsteps vanished from the ground and her scent had faded. He just needed a sign, any indication that they were close.

Thorn landed, having had no luck searching overhead either. That was the other thing making Murtagh wary. He did not have enough energy to completely disable the wards guarding the Ra'zac. He had to use the Name of Names to make it so that he and Thorn could still communicate and he could access some of his magic, but he knew it wouldn't be enough if it came to a fight. Hopefully, they would not run into anything or anyone besides the Ra'zac. _There is no unusual activity, or anything to indicate where she might have been taken. From above, everything is still, but it is…relatively normal._

Murtagh didn't like it either, but for more reasons than the fact that he was damn-near powerless. It had to be wards or shields in the area blocking his magic, but he knew the Ra'zac could not produce anything like this. Which meant someone else had done it for them. Someone else who had needed the Ra'zac to be on the island, but not found by anyone who inhabited it. And heavens help them if they did…

Ayo suddenly shouted in surprise, and Murtagh turned before his eyes went wide with disbelief.

The other men had backed away, confused and afraid. But Murtagh could only stare in awe at the small spirit that floated a few feet off the ground. It looked like nothing more than a pale orb, but there was something hauntingly beautiful about it. He had never seen one before, but of course had heard about them during his studies. But what was one doing here?

 _Careful,_ Thorn warned as Murtagh dared take a step forward. _This could be a trap._

"That's it!" Cado shouted. "That's the thing that led us to the caves. I had been about to tell Hal about it."

So the spirit was here to help? It seemed preposterous but, then again, Murtagh never anticipated running into the Ra'zac either. The color of the spirit suddenly changed to a deep red, the color of Thorn, and Murtagh felt like it was addressing him directly. But he still stepped back in surprise, ready for some sort of attack. Or so he thought until a heart-stopping scream was emitted from the object, and Murtagh stumbled even further back in surprise.

"That's Hal," Amon said, his voice hollow at the cry of pain being emitted from the spirit. Then he suddenly let out a sob, quickly covering his mouth as his eyes burned with tears. Murtagh felt his face go ashen at the thought of her torture. Her cries of pain awakening memories he kept buried deep within himself. But he shook the thoughts loose before they consumed him, letting his desire to get Hal back as soon as possible become his focus.

The spirt faded and disappeared. But before Murtagh could move, it reappeared again, further away and heading north.

 _I think it wants us to follow it_ , Murtagh thought slowly, feeling silly at the thought.

 _Do we have much choice?_

 _Well, like you said, it could be a trap._

Thorn seemed to ponder this carefully. _I will continue to fly overhead, scout the area up ahead to make sure you are not about to walk into anything we may not suspect. I do not like what's at play here, but I suspect we have begun to stumble upon what Eragon was worried about._

Murtagh grimaced. _He'll never let me hear the end of it when I tell him he was right._

"Are we going after it?" Sam asked anxiously, looking at Murtagh as though they didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Aye," Murtagh said, giving them a slight nod. "But on one condition."

"You're in no position to make demands," Ayo snapped. "Not when Hal's life is at risk."

"I know the creature we're up against," he told them firmly, dropping his voice to put an edge of authority and command in it. "And it is not to be trifled with. Now I don't know Halen very well, but I know she was adamant about making sure you all made it back to your families. And if I rush you all into danger and something happens, she'll skewer me in my sleep, whether she's dead or alive."

He flinched regretfully at his tactlessness as soon as the words left his mouth, but he could see in their eyes that he was right. "I will do what I can for Halen. On my life as a rider, you have my word. But if anything happens, if it gets bad, you all will turn tail and run when I tell you to. And you won't look back."

"Absolutely not —" Cado began.

"Easy, Cado," Amon said in a low voice, but the man's eyes were on Murtagh. Studying. Reading. Understanding. "What's in it for you, rider? Why do you care so much about one of our own?"

Murtagh squinted as he gazed at where the sun was peeking through the trees. He didn't have his answer fully formed as he spoke, but he knew he needed to say something. "I have met many people in my lifetime. Some good, some bad, and some…pure evil. But they all had one thing in common, and that was their involvement in the war. They may have been pawns or they may have been the ones moving the pieces, but they had a hand in what transpired on the mainland. And it changed them, as war does.

"Halen was…is, perhaps, the first person I've met outside of that reality." At least, he had thought she was. But now he wasn't as sure. "All of you are. A village completely untouched by the wrath of a tyrant. And even though he is long dead, it makes me happy, in a way, to know that he did not corrupt everything like he thought he had. There is still _innocence_ in this world. Halen is protective of that. And I cannot easily forget that she extended that protectiveness to me when I needed it most, even when I was cold to her. I will not leave someone like her to a fate like this. Not if I can do something about it."

Amon breathed, shaking his head more to himself than anything. "Dammit, Hal's always right isn't she?" Murtagh stared, unsure of what the man meant. But Amon nodded his head as if he hadn't said anything. "Tell us what we need to do."

…

At some point, Hal had briefly blacked out, unable to stand the pain any longer. But unconsciousness was not the reprieve she had wanted it to be; her thoughts were filled with pain of another kind. Pain from a long, forgotten memory. She tried to block it out, unable to tolerate anything more than what she was already having to endure, but it was all too familiar: being bound, being tortured.

 _Please…_

The Ra'zac must've realized that the liquid poison wasn't doing what it should, and Hal was painfully pulled from her oblivion with a heavy-handed slap to her cheek. She tasted blood, but was too dazed to make any noise registering the shock to her system.

" _I know what you are_ ," it hissed, it's frustration with her growing obvious as time passed. What it wanted, what it was looking for, she still didn't know. It refused to say.

"You're wrong," Hal said weakly.

" _Then why do you sssmell like her? Do you not possess the power?_ "

Hal stiffened. A memory, faint, unlocked itself from the depths of her mind. But it was fleeting, and she stumbled over the word 'no' but it was too late. She had hesitated, and the Ra'zac took that as an affirmation.

" _I will rip the magic from your chessst," it hissed gleefully. "And for your liesss, I will make ssssure it hurtsss._ "

Hal heard the knife cut through the rope that bound her hands above her head, and she dropped to the ground, not realizing that she had lost the feeling in her legs hours ago. She released a low moan at the pain in her limbs as they tried to regain their feeling. The Ra'zac showed no sympathy, kicking her in her ribs so hard that she was sure she heard a crack as she was forced onto her back.

Without preamble, without any warning or indication of what was to come, the Ra'zac took one of her fingers and snapped it like it was twig. Hal screamed, twisting and kicking until the bastard put its knee in her stomach, making it harder to breath. Harder to fight.

"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" She screamed, desperate. Panicked. "PLEASE!"

It broke another finger.

She screamed again, and something flickered in her chest. And for the briefest of moments, she could've sworn she felt the ground beneath her tremble.

…

Murtagh and the others followed the spirit, the horses running at high speeds now that it was properly light out, and they did not have to worry about tripping over rocks, fallen trees, or sudden declines that could cause injury. It was risky, he knew, to put Halen's fate in the spirits…hands, for lack of a better word. But he told himself that it was, for now, on their side. It had, for reasons unknown, already helped the others escape the Ra'zac. And right now, they needed all the help they could get.

They didn't stop until they reached a clearing bigger than he would have guessed. They slid to a stop, coming to the edge of a rather sudden drop. Not over a cliff, but rather into the water below. Murtagh surveyed their surroundings, unsure of what to expect next. The waterfall underneath them was loud, making it damn-near impossible to hear his own thoughts. The water seemed shallow enough, but it still seemed doubtful that the Ra'zac would be here. Perhaps they were to get around the pool, and get to where the woods continued beyond it.

"Over there!" Amon pointed to their left, having found the spirit again. The being was near a narrow path, too small to take the horses, one that would lead them down. He dismounted from Nani, calling to the others to follow his lead. Their descent was slower than he would've liked, interrupted when the ground faintly shook underneath them.

"What the hell was that?!" Cado cried, clutching the cliff wall for dear life, his eyes wide.

But Murtagh froze, and even Thorn paused. They both felt what the others could not. And that was the magic that had just briefly flickered around them, gone as quickly as it had come. Murtagh thought of whoever had created the wards around the Ra'zac and swore, not having anticipated they would run into them so soon.

He turned to the men. "I know you will disagree, but you have to stay here."

The backlash was swift. They were shouting and cursing his name, threatening to push him into the water below and continue on without him.

 _Testy_ , Thorn sneered, listening to the men argue with irritation. _I should like to sweep them into the water myself_.

 _I actually need you to stay behind as well, Thorn._

 _I will eat you, young one, that is a promise._

Murtagh's lips twitched at Thorn's resistance. _Please stay and watch over the men. Make sure there are no more surprises and that they don't do anything rash._

 _I am more worried about you._

 _I know. But we have few options and even less time_ , he said, recalling Halen's words to him when she recounted the decision to save his life. _I need you to do this. Please._

Thorn huffed. _I will eat you when you return for your recklessness. But aye, I will remain here._

 _Thank you, my friend._

To the men of Halen's village, he said, "I fear another magic user may be here. And if that is the case, I cannot guarantee Halen's safety in addition to your own. I would have to choose —"

"Then choose Hal, dammit," Cado snapped.

"And have her tell your families what? If she is enduring what I fear she is, your deaths and the fallout with your families will put much on her. That's not fair to Halen, regardless of your intentions to save her life."

Cado opened his mouth, then slammed it shut at the harsh truth of Murtagh's words. "Hal would do the same for us," he whispered meekly, looking to the others to support him.

But no one spoke. Murtagh breathed. "I know it's unfair, but just wait here. Give me time to retrieve Halen, then decide for yourselves what should be done if I do not return."

"We're counting on you, Dragon Rider," Ayo said stiffly, his gaze hard and unflinching. "You bring her back to us."

Murtagh did not nod his head or make any promises he could not keep. He simply turned and continued down, the spirit waiting for him at the bottom of the narrow path. Here, he saw that the rock where they had been standing was practically hollowed out, a deep cavern stretched out underneath, a narrow opening to a tunnel hidden from view. The ground quaked faintly under his feet, the pulse of magic waning as the shivers stopped. But that one had lasted longer than the first. Something was very wrong and he quickly followed the spirit deeper into the cave.

The small orb moved with a newfound sense of urgency, disappearing and reappearing at a rate faster than before. Murtagh just barely managed to keep up, the light of the sun quickly fading, leaving nothing but the spirit to light his way. He could feel the ground slowly decline, leading them deeper underground. Even Murtagh became unsettled at such profound darkness, running for what felt like miles, towards the center of the earth. No wonder Thorn had lost Halen's scent. The water masked it and, this far underground, it would be difficult to trace.

But soon, he heard a sound that did make his blood run cold. A human scream, one of immense pain. It was faint, but growing closer, louder. A chill ran down his back, and he broke into an impossible sprint. The screaming continued. It didn't seem to stop. His arms pumped at his side, his legs feeling too heavy. Not fast enough. He wasn't fast enough.

The ground shook again, but this surge was stronger. Several rocks overhead were dislodged, barely missing him as he kept pushing forward. But a sudden, nagging suspicion crept into his mind.

Another scream, one of someone who had reached their breaking point. He knew it well, and he had to tamper down his own dark and vivid memories. And the earth around him began to collapse, the ground shaking so horribly that it threw him off his feet, and he barely managed to stay upright, cutting his hands on the rough stone walls as he struggled to keep his balance. He was close, he could feel it in the way the magic pressed in around him.

Wild and untamed.

Raw.

This was not the magic of someone capable of building wards. This was the magic of someone who didn't know how to control it. Someone who may not have even known such power within them existed. And Murtagh had no doubt that this magic…this was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He finally saw them. The spirit casting the only light in the expansive cavern, big enough to hold the Lethrblaka. And he froze. Froze, unable to speak. Because Halen was lying before him, and her hand…her hand was a mangled mess. No, not just her hand. Her arm, even her shoulder. The joints, the bones, dislocated or broken, twisted in an unsightly shape that made him want to throw up.

The Ra'zac either didn't notice or didn't care that Murtagh had arrived. What it did to Halen, Murtagh couldn't see, but she let out another heartbreaking scream, and he rushed forward, sword raised, to end her agony. Her body thrashed underneath the Ra'zac as she inhaled sharply and released another scream. The surge of magic that escaped her was the final, crushing blow. The Ra'zac cackled with laughter as it imploded, covering the ground in blood and gore as if pulled apart into thousands of tiny pieces. But that wasn't all. No, not even close. Halen was still screaming, her back arched as magic more than her body could contain was unleashed. It was enough to throw Murtagh off his feet, and the rocks around them exploded. He looked up, horrified, as the cave began to collapse, rocks piling in front of what would've been their way out. He barely managed to avoid getting knocked out, jumping to the side as one came down right where he had been standing.

He scrambled to his feet, rushing to Halen's side. He didn't recoil at the sharp smell of urine. It only added to his anger. Her condition was horrible, and he realized the Ra'zac had been in the process of mutilating her other hand, using pain of the worst kind to trigger her magic. And it had succeeded. But now there was nothing to undo the damage it had caused. Murtagh had to get them both out before they were killed.

"Stay with me, Halen," he grunted, picking her up under her knees, his arm under her shoulders. Her tunic began to fall away, and only then did Murtagh realize that she had been burned with seither oil. He felt his panic begin to grow. "I've got you now, just stay with me."

He kept repeating this, kept talking to her, hoping to keep her conscious. A sound stopped him, and he turned just as the ceiling overhead caved in, and water from above poured in.

Shit.

He threw himself against the wall of the cave, away from the heavy downpour of water as it slowly began to fill the space. He saw a staggering of rocks, high up enough to get out of the way of the water. He carefully moved Halen to his back, carrying her as Amon has carried him. Her breath was warm on his neck, but faint. He climbed carefully, dreading what should happen if he slipped. But when they were high enough, he laid her down before standing back up, using the height to examine the cave.

The water was rising, but already the flow was beginning to fade, for which he was grateful. But the tunnel he had used to get in was already filled with water, and he could not find another exit. Murtagh himself had no idea where they were in relation to where he had entered the cave and he hadn't been able to feel Thorn's mind so far underground. Could he climb out? With Hal it was too risky, but if there was another tunnel out, it was covered in water now.

"Mur…tagh."

He turned, surprise when she suddenly spoke. Something that was clearly a struggle for her to do. He took one look at her and knew. He dropped to his knees, cradling her head in his hands. "Don't speak, you need to save your strength."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. "Please. Tell Denu…I'm sorry."

"Tell him yourself. You hear me, Halen? Halen!"

But she didn't respond as her eyes fluttered closed. Murtagh lay his head on her chest. Nothing.

"No, no, no, no, no. Come on, Halen, hang in there for me." He closed his eyes and quickly spoke the words of the Ancient Language, transferring what energy he could spare to her. Although her injuries were severe, he had no doubt that the magic she had exerted as a result of her torture had put her body under unimaginable strain. He just needed to buy them a few more minutes. He could fix this. Right?

Thorn suddenly flew in and Murtagh was relieved that the dragon had been able to find them. There was no time for Murtagh to scramble onto his back, so Thorn carried them both in his claws, rising out of the cave. Halen was tucked under his arm as Thorn gently set them down on the warm grass.

In proper lighting, the full extent of her suffering was revealed to him. Both her hands were broken, mangled and twisted, along with the right arm. There was bruising on her cheeks and down her arms. Not to mention the seithr oil. He gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with fury that she had suffered so. Her injuries would take him hours to heal, and energy he did not have. But he would try. For Halen, he would try.

"Breathe, Halen."

Thorn watched with sad eyes as Murtagh performed chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth. What energy he gave should be enough. She couldn't be…he refused to believe it. Refused to believe that a woman who had dove off a cliff to save his life, had fought of a pack of lovuk to save Thorn, could possibly be dead.

The others came running, and Murtagh refused to break his stride as their cries of pain indicated that they knew what was happening.

 _Come on, Halen. Breathe, dammit._

Amon kneeled down on the other side of Halen, his expression unreadable as he gazed upon Halen's face. He pushed a strand of hair from her face, eyes filled with tears that ran down his cheeks and into his beard. "Come on, Halen. Not like this. Please, don't go. Not like this." Amon continued to whisper to her, as if she could hear him. And Murtagh's eyes widened with an idea.

 _Thorn_?

 _I am here, young one. But tread carefully, it will not do any good to get lost in the confines of her mind if we lose her._

There was no precedent for what he was about to do, of that he was sure. But for whatever reason, he felt desperate. Like he couldn't allow her to die. Not here. Not like this. _More of the world deserves to be captured by someone like you._ He had meant every word in that letter. Seen such potential and life in her. And he was tired, so very tired, of those who deserved to live being the ones who suffered most. And he was tired of feeling like he was a helpless victim to fate.

Breathing carefully, he waited until he felt Thorn's energy meld with his own before he bent down at the waist. Amon moved back in surprise as Murtagh pressed his forehead to Halen's, touching her mind. It was empty and he pushed himself forward, careful, but very much desperate as he navigated the depths of what remained of her conscience. At first glance, there were no thoughts, no memories to sift through. No indication that there was any soul left to revive. Nothing at all.

Except…

Finally, he saw it, glowing faintly in the dark corners of her mind. It was weak, struggling to maintain its demure glow. But he inched closer, feeling his mind reach out to it. It shirked away from him and he gently touched it, opening his own mind so that it could see that he bore it no ill will. There was a discomfort at such exposure, a vulnerability that he had not expected. But he needed her to trust him. He needed her to reach out.

He recognized what remained as part of the energy he had given to her, part of himself in the hopes of keeping her alive. And it had, entangling itself with what little bit of her own life that remained.

 _Halen? Come to me, Halen._

He tugged on the tether, firm but gentle. _To me, Halen._

 _Come back._

He continued to pull, hoping she could hear him. Hoping she would listen. _Please…I'll do anything. Just spare her._

And then he felt it. Fingers, gentle and frightened, grip his hand.

He pulled even harder.

He didn't realize how tightly he was gritting his teeth. The strain this had put on his body. And he didn't care, because Halen's eyes flew open as she sucked in air, gasping and choking on it as her lungs reset themselves. Murtagh barely had time to register what had happened before the others were crowding around her, crying and laughing with relief.

He politely and quietly stepped back towards Thorn, his knees shaking as he struggled not to throw up. He closed his eyes, separating his emotions from the feel of Halen's, taking comfort at the familiarity of being back in his own mind where he belonged. _Easy now_ , Thorn said gently. _Just take it easy._

 _I'm fine,_ Murtagh breathed, realizing it to be true. He was exhausted, sure. Starving, and had little energy for himself. But she was alive. And he was so relieved that he didn't care about such superficial inconveniences. He dropped to the ground, leaning against Thorn for support.

He looked up and saw that Halen was watching him, deftly ignoring the others who crowded her. She looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it since the others would hear. She turned her head, staring up at the sky, breathing. Murtagh looked up, feeling compelled to do the same.


	19. Chapter 19: Fire and Darkness

Night had fallen by the time Murtagh finished healing her. Hal stared up at the sky the entire time, having realized only as she gazed upon it that she had truly thought she would never see it again. Occasionally her eyes flickered down to the rider, watching him as he worked, even though she could tell her gaze unnerved him. But she only did so as to remind herself who was touching her. To remind herself that she was safe.

The men allowed Murtagh to order them around, fetching water, bandages, and herbs for her, hunting food for them. The commotion, the noise of it, kept her attention for the most part. Occasionally they would shoot her strangled smiles, but it did not reach their eyes. And soon, Hal returned to gazing at the sky, unable to bear the pained expressions.

Murtagh, to his credit, was a better healer than she would have guessed. He was surprisingly gentle and empathetic, and she recalled, once again, the horrid scars on his torso. He worked slowly, healing what he could of the injuries without completely exhausting his and Thorn's energy. His voice was low as he called on his magic, and Hal sometimes would close her eyes, listening. She let the low tones soothe her, like a lullaby, along with the cackling fire and low whispers of the others. She could hear Thorn's heavy breaths, the birds overhead, or the insects buzzing. She cherished these sounds. If Murtagh was wondering why she was crying, he did not ask.

Her arm and hands took more time than she would have anticipated, and she gritted her teeth, shaking in pain as the bones were worked back into place, most of which Murtagh had to do himself instead of with magic. There was some scaring, she could see, from where he could not use too much magic to heal the full extent of her injuries. She told herself she didn't mind, so long as she could draw her bow and sketch and do all the things she enjoyed doing. And yet…she didn't want the reminder. To look down her hand and always see the Ra'zac breaking it.

When Murtagh finally reached her back, Hal spoke at last, her voice low so that only he could hear. "Not in front of them."

He looked at her, grey eyes furrowed at the sudden request. But he slowly nodded. He sat her up slowly, Hal wincing at her still bruised stomach that wasn't threatening enough to be of much concern. She could see Murtagh take a deep breath before lifting her, and it was only then that she realized the toll this must be taking on him. She almost told him to stop, to get rest and tend to his own needs, but he must've seen it in her eyes, because he quickly steeled his, looking away before she could speak.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked, jumping to his feet.

"Her remaining injuries require privacy. She asked for it; I will do as she requests."

Sam stumbled at that, looking at Hal who only gave him a slow nod, barely able to meet his gaze. Murtagh's blanket was still wrapped around her. He had laid it over her hips without a word, but she had nearly cried when she realized what he had done. Covering her shame so that none of the others would have to see. No one stopped them as Murtagh carried her away from the where they had set up camp.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice as he set her down, out of earshot and sight of the others.

"Of course."

Hal's tunic was in ruin. Because of the poison, Murtagh quietly told her it would need to be discarded. She did not blink, nodding slowly as she began to pull off what remained of the material. Murtagh helped as best he could, keeping his eyes on hers so as to let her know he would not try or do anything that would make her uncomfortable. And she had no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't. She lifted his blanket to cover her chest.

However, when he reached her back, his sharp inhale didn't surprise her. And not, she knew, from the effects of the poison.

"The others do not know," she said in a low voice.

"How? When?"

"I do not wish to speak of 'how' but I was ten when it happened."

He must've found a stretch of skin that had not been marred by poison, because he ran his fingers down one of the thin, ropelike scars on her back. Hal shuddered at the touch, shirking away from him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate," he said in a harried voice.

"I just didn't expect it."

But he only touched her afterwards to heal the burns. It was a long process due to the sheer nature of the poison, carefully extracting it from her system along with healing the open sores and repairing the damaged skin. Murtagh had to work much slower, and Hal worried it would push him too far. She kept her arms across her chest, marveling at his touch. Grateful to it, after such harsh treatment.

When he was finally finished, there was a stifling silence. She could hear the fire from the others, smell the food they had begun to cook. Her stomach growled viciously and she flinched, curling up slightly against the pain.

"We should get you something to eat," Murtagh said in a low voice, his eyes drooping and red from exhaustion.

Hal shook her head. "I wish to bathe first."

He blinked, as if only then realizing she was covered in filth. Blood, hers and the Raz'ac's, as well as urine. She did not want to be around the others like this. But more importantly, she could not bear it herself any longer.

Murtagh retrieved her bag from Nani, following her silently as she stumbled in the darkness, unsure of herself and her surroundings. She was startled by a squirrel, stepping back into the rider as it jumped out at her. He placed his hand on the small of her back. "Don't worry, Halen, I've got you."

She swallowed, nodding nervously. She didn't trust herself to speak just yet. If she did, she feared she may weep and never stop.

Murtagh kept his back to her as she removed her boots and pants, but she was grateful that he remained close without her having to ask it of him. The water was still warm from the heat of the day, and Hal wadded in to her waist before she ducked her head under.

Despite her hunger, she took her time. Not only was her body still horribly sore from the bruising that remained, but she was not eager to join the others. To face them and their silence. She washed the blood and grime off her skin and hair, feeling somewhat more…just more, now that she was clean. When she was finally ready to get out, Murtagh was already holding her blanket up, hiding his face so she would have privacy as she stepped out.

When she was completely wrapped up, they finally looked at each other. They had been avoiding each other's gaze for the most part — or rather he had been avoiding hers — but it was impossible to do so now.

"You came for me," Hal whispered, her voice still weak and rough, shaking with emotion.

"I would not leave you in the hands of such demons," he said in a low voice.

But she shook her head. "No, I mean when I…" She couldn't say it. Couldn't possibly put into words what it had felt like, feeling her own life slipping away. She swallowed. "I felt you. I _heard_ you. In my head. You _came_ for me. Why?"

His eyes were wide with surprise, as if he hadn't truly expected it. "You heard me?"

"You told me to come to you. But it was more than that. I could feel your emotions as if they were mine. Your fear, your anger, your misery. It felt so familiar, so much like my own…" Her voice trailed off.

His gaze was…she couldn't describe it, but it made her nervous. Perhaps she sounded crazy. Perhaps she was making all of it up, projecting some strange fantasy onto him.

"I didn't know if it would work," he admitted. "I was so desperate to try anything. To keep you from truly fading." He sighed and she waited patiently, eager to hear it from his perspective. "I could not save you from the Ra'zac. And for what you endured, Halen, I am truly sorry. But I was willing to try almost anything to spare your life. And you deserve it more than anyone I know."

His words meant much to her, even if she had a hard time loosening her tongue long enough to tell him. He raised a hand, as if to set in on top of her head or to touch her in some way, to provide comfort. But he seemed to think better of it and began to lower it. But Hal stopped him, noticing what he had not.

"You're shaking." She held his hand in hers, observing the slight tremors in his hands. She knew it. It was all too much. He had gotten little to no rest, and his body still likely had not healed from the damage the Nïdhwal had caused, and the process of regaining his strength was sure to be a longer one now because he had focused more on her needs than his own.

"I'm fine," he said tightly, withdrawing his hand. "Don't worry about me. Come on, let's get you something to eat."

She hesitated, dreading the idea of facing the others. Murtagh watched her carefully, waiting. "They won't ever look at me the same," she explained. "I can't blame them, of course. But I can't — I don't want to face it. Face them. Not yet."

He frowned. "Do you wish to be alone?"

 _No_. "Yes."

He nodded that he understood. But just as he turned to leave, he looked back at her once more. "I know there are no words of comfort you want to hear right now," he offered, his eyes laced with empathy. "And I will not tell them to you unless you want me to. But I will say this: I have not…there are more times than I care to admit where I have not been able to save someone. Either from myself or from the cursed life fate has given me. But I am glad, Halen, that you were an exception."

She wanted to thank him properly. But she couldn't force the words out and she felt like she was wound too tight, retreating deep within herself to avoid letting her emotions spill out in front of Murtagh. So she nodded to show that she had heard him, but didn't dare look at him. She almost called out to him as he turned back towards the camp, but she couldn't find her voice, and the tears burned her eyes, shaming her back into silence.

Hal collapsed on the grassy bank, holding the blanket tighter around her frame. Then she covered her mouth with her hand, burying her face in her lap to muffle her sobs as she cried.

…

The journey back to the village was perhaps one of the longest in Hal's life. Conversation was essentially nonexistent, the men not knowing whether to coddle her or keep their distance. Talk about nothing or talk about what happened. But Hal didn't feel like talking. She was constantly falling asleep in her saddle, jerking herself awake. She knew better than to sleep. Knew what nightmares waited for her if she closed her eyes for too long. She was becoming short and irritable when she opened her mouth, and she was tired of watching her ill mood demolish any joy the men had of going home. She would not ruin this for them. So, she didn't speak.

The rider, thankfully, was out of earshot and out of sight during most of these instances. He rode on Thorn during the day, camping out with the others at night. Hal noticed that Amon, Sam, Ayo, and Cado held him with much higher regard compared to before, their tones polite, even friendly, when they addressed him. However, the rider seemed to be a man of few words now, and would only smile and nod vaguely. Instead, it would seem he spent most of his time watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, especially if someone commented how she hadn't touched her food or didn't seem to be sleeping.

She had to wonder if he was sizing her up. She knew he had seen it — what she had done to the Ra'zac. She had not felt a drop of that magic since, but she knew it was there. She had hoped, perhaps, that it was a fluke. A mistake. But the rider didn't bring it up, and she certainly wasn't going to push. And yet she wanted to ask, because it scared her, this magic. The Ra'zac had suspected her because of her smell — did anyone or any _thing_ else know? She shivered at the thought.

With less than a day's ride left before they reached the village, there was an air of eagerness as they settled down for the night. Hal was not asked to help put together the evening meal, and she didn't offer her assistance. Instead, she sat there, wrapped in her blanket despite the warm temperatures. She stared at the flames, her mind drifting to another time. Another place. Another fire. Memories had begun to resurface the last few days, ones she had been desperate to suppress. She used to have nightmares of a world on fire, of blood and burning flesh. Past and present were merging, inescapable. And she was powerless against them both.

Powerless.

Something in her shattered at the word. This profound weakness that she had spent a decade trying to overcome. She had put everything that she was into being the woman she became. And just like that, in a few hours, it had been destroyed. And tomorrow, she would have to figure out how to face the rest of the village. Lie to their faces, because she knew no one here would speak of what they had faced. But what Hal herself had endured down in the cave? That was for her and her alone. And that loneliness became so overwhelming that she had to grit her teeth tightly to keep the sobs from escaping.

She dug her nails in her to palms, squeezing, desperate to block the tears. She would not cry. She would _not_ cry. She flinched, feeling her nails break the skin. Her hands were shaking. Soon, however, the urge to cry began to wane, and Hal finally opened her eyes, feeling even more exhausted than she had before. But she didn't care. She was angry and scared and hurt, and the memories that plagued her were constant. There was no peace to be found. No strength. There was only fire or darkness.

…

Murtagh poked sullenly at the fire with a narrow stick he had found, listening to how the flames cackled at being jostled so vehemently. He had agreed to take first watch again, allowing the others time to settle down and rest. Amon had even convinced Halen to take a few bites of food before she agreed to lie down for a little bit. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that the bags under her eyes were growing darker, her eyes bloodshot and weary, yet they were still surprised by her sullen compliance.

He had so many questions, so many things that didn't make sense. Although he doubted Halen would be able to clarify any of it. He didn't know what to make of any of it: the Ra'zac and Halen's magic. The two must be connected — the Ra'zac had seemed almost joyful, even in its final moments, to have found her. But now that the Ra'zac were dead, what next? Did anyone else know or had they bought themselves time to figure out what to do next?

 _Does this mean you intend for us to stay?_

Murtagh sighed. _I don't know. We've done what we've set out to do. I have no doubt that Halen is the child in danger Eragon was dreaming of. As to the age difference, I don't know. But we saved her life, what more is left for us?_

 _We should ask Eragon, as soon as we are able. Just to be sure._

Murtagh grumbled under his breath. _I do not wish to stay much longer, Thorn. I wish to rest and regain my strength properly._

 _As you should. But do you truly believe this is over? After the magic we felt in the young maiden, is it right to abandon her fate to chance?_

 _By that logic, we would be forced to stay here forever!_

Thorn huffed, but didn't disagree. _I suppose we have few options in the matter._

 _Which is why I'd rather hand things off to Eragon now. Before they become even more complicated and muddied._

 _Complicated how?_

 _Just…complicated_. He glanced over the fire at Halen, shielding these particular thoughts from Thorn like he always did, mulling them over on his own. He had not told anyone about the scars on her back, not even Thorn knew. It had been hard to see in the dark, but it had appeared to be four or five scars, practically the same size, shape, and color. She had been whipped. He couldn't figure out why. No one in the village seemed capable — not to mention it didn't seem to be a common practice.

But it wasn't just about her scars, especially since they had nothing to do with the matter at hand. It was about her magic too. It wasn't uncommon for strenuous situations to trigger someone's magical ability — it was a common tactic used against young riders, he had learned, to be given complicated tasks for this very purpose. But in none of his readings did he recall anyone's magic causing the ground to shake or creatures to implode. It didn't make sense, and he had to admit that he was a little bit curious. More than a little bit, actually.

He felt Thorn nudge his mind, drawing his attention. Murtagh looked up, blinking in surprise to find Halen sitting up, looking like she didn't know whether she was going to be sick or if she needed to cry. He knew he had done all he could for her. Knew that. And yet, looking at the distraught expression on her face, he felt racked with guilt. He had seen such fire in her. Such life. And she had a long road ahead of her if she wished to regain that semblance of her life back.

He was careful not to move, not wanting to startle her. She wiped her tear-stained cheeks, looking exhausted, before she finally noticed him. It was more of a struggle than he anticipated not looking away from her gaze, feeling a mix of unsettling emotions.

 _You came for me_.

He swallowed, nervous. It was another reason he was all too happy to fly on Thorn, keeping his distance. He felt like he had intruded more than enough on her privacy. Even though he hadn't seen anything, the fact remained that he had been in her head, and she knew. She hadn't seemed angry, still didn't. But that knowledge hung between them, along with a few other things. Secrets, he realized. They had secrets that they were keeping from others. And that made him uneasy. Not because he felt any obligation to expose her or what she had been through. No, he wouldn't do that to her. But he knew the weight of exposing a secret to just one person, the quiet bond it could create. Perhaps he was over-thinking it, but with everything going on, it was hard not to.

But worse than that was his desire to go into her mind again. He wouldn't dare unless absolutely necessary. Despite the stillness, despite the silence, that small thread of life that she had clung to had drawn him in. When he beheld it, there was a fight there, a desperation, like she had been hanging on too. Not only did that give him hope for her future, but it made him want to know more. Only someone of strong mind, body, and soul could endure what she had and continue to fight until the very end.

Only then did he realize that he was still staring, but she was too. Observing him silently in the way that only Halen could. He hesitated only for a moment before rising to his feet, moving to sit by her side. He moved carefully, not wanting to wake the others who were snoring peacefully. Halen didn't protest as he sat down, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

For a while, they didn't say anything. Murtagh sat there with his legs crossed, Halen hugging hers to her chest. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed unsure of herself. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting all the tells of her nervousness. How stiff she was beside him.

He leaned closer, only a bit, so that he would not have to talk as loud as he said, "Question for a question?"

She seemed almost relieved to hear him speak, and nodded quietly.

"How are you healing?"

Probably not the question she had suspected, by the ways her brows furrowed in confusion. She licked her lips slowly, trying to determine if this was a trick. Finding none, she took a slow breath. "Well enough," she said, her voice soft. "The riding doesn't help with the bruising though."

He nodded slowly, suspecting as much. "I'm sorry I could not do more —"

"Don't," she interrupted quickly, turning to look at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Not after what you did for me."

He only nodded, not wanting to belabor the point when he knew there were other things on her mind. She must've sensed it to, because she took another deep breath. "What will you do now?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You don't intend to stay, do you? So, what will you do next? Anywhere you'd like to go where perhaps there is less madness to be had?"

She struggled to smile and it didn't quite reach her eyes. But the effort to jest was still there, and his heart softened in amazement. He smiled. "Perhaps east," he admitted. "Just past the border lines of the kingdom, so Thorn and I don't have to look over our shoulders any longer."

"Have you ever been east before?"

"I've never been further than parts of the Beor Mountains."

She sucked in her breath. "You've seen the mountains? What are they like?"

Despite how much time had passed since he last saw them, the memory of it was still vivid. The mountains were not something so easily forgotten. She listened with rapt attention, the smallest semblance of awe on her face. When he was finished, he gave her a cheeky grin. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that was…" He counted on his hand… "Three questions."

"Those don't count."

"They were still questions."

"You can't spring the Beor Mountains on an island girl and not expect immediate follow-up. That's entrapment."

He held up his hands as though in surrender. "I didn't make the rules."

Something in her eyes danced in the firelight, but she shook her head, her lips tugging into a barely-there smile, but a smile all the same. "Fine then, rider, do your worst."

His smile faded, his expression becoming more serious. "Did the Ra'zac say anything to you?"

As he expected, her face darkened, her eyes pained. He hated it, hated to ask it of her so soon. But he needed to know, and he couldn't risk avoiding it for her own well-being. Not when she held potentially vital information.

Halen swallowed, looking ill. "It said it needed to be sure. Before alerting its master. It kept saying that I smelled like them, so that's why it was so sure that I could…"

She blinked quickly. Hating himself, Murtagh pressed forward, "Have you ever used magic before?"

A tear rolled down her cheek, but her voice was tight, guarded. "Once."

 _Murtagh, perhaps you should stop —_ Thorn began.

"What happened?" he pressed.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Halen, this is important."

"I don't want to talk about it," she hissed.

"Halen if these incidents are connected, I need to know."

"So that you can do _what_ , exactly? You just said you wanted to leave, so why does it matter?"

Her tone and eyes were challenging, defensive. And Murtagh knew then that he was prying into details she would not so readily hand out simply because he asked. Halen turned her head away from him, coiled tight like a snake. She tried to wipe her eyes inconspicuously on her sleeve, but he was watching her too carefully to miss it.

"I'm not trying to be an ass," he said in a low voice. "I'm just trying to make sense of why this is happening. So that I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

She looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. "How? How can you be sure?"

"I can't be unless you tell me what I need to know," he explained, keeping his voice level. "You don't have to tell me everything, but you've got to give me something."

"I don't _have_ to do anything," she corrected sharply. "And I can't give you that. I don't want to talk about it."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

She glowered at him. "So much for not trying to be an ass, you ass."

She turned over, lying down with her back to him, sufficiently shutting him down. Murtagh stared in stunned silence. When he realized that she was effectively ignoring him, he climbed slowly to his feet and returned to his spot by Thorn.

 _I tried to tell you to stop_ , the dragon said, clearly miffed with him as well.

 _Yeah? Well I didn't listen, so congratulations, you were right. Are you happy?_

 _Are you?_

The inflection in his tone made Murtagh turn his head. Halen was curled up tightly, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Murtagh swallowed, guilt enflaming in his chest. _I wasn't trying to upset her. I'm trying to help._

 _I know, young one. I do. And perhaps, on some level, Halen does too. But it's only been a few days since the Ra'zac tortured her. We cannot push her, especially being strangers ourselves._

Murtagh sat in silence, mulling over their options. _What am I meant to do if she won't tell me anything?_

 _Be patient. A little empathy wouldn't hurt._

 _I am being empathetic!_

 _Well perhaps you could show instead of tell. Because it's not me you have to convince._

…

Hal's lids were swollen when she got up the next morning. It was already light out, meaning the others had slept in a little. Probably because they were planning on drinking themselves stupid when they got home — not that she could fault them. Hal sat up, her back to the group who grunted their morning greetings to each other, breakfast already cooking over the flames. She could feel eyes on her as she sat there in silence, adamantly avoiding conversation.

She was steeling herself. Mentally and emotionally preparing herself for the moment they crossed into the village. There would be tears, there would be shouts of surprise and joy. And there would questions. She knew none of the men were thinking about what to tell the villagers, but she had her responses carefully crafted. She just had to get through the reunion, and then she could be alone.

She gave the rider a cold shoulder of his own, hardly looking at him through breakfast. As she mounted Nani for the final stretch home, she felt the faintest touch of relief that he would be leaving. She was grateful for all he had done for her, make no mistake. But he was too sharp, and she could not have anyone, especially a stranger, asking her about her past.

At least that was what she tried to tell herself.

He and Thorn took to the skies like always as the rest of them headed off on horseback. Nani easily maintained a steady head start over the others, riding as if she sensed Hal's desire to get the men back to the village. That was what she had set out to do, regardless of what had happened to her. Also, it was easier to hide her face as long as she was up front.

Coming in from the north meant they came in on the edge of the fields, cultivated lands that took much of the village to care for. Which meant that damn near everyone knew at once they were back. Hal began to slow, hesitating, but the others surged forward. People began to point and shout, waving and cheering.

She breathed, clutching her reigns tightly, feeling the scars on her hand stretch as her grip shifted. She would not be able to explain such injuries, and she could only hide them for so long. She would have to come up with lie after lie after lie.

But first, she had to endure the reunions.

She breathed, praying for strength. Using the last few moments of peace to squash her hate and anger and fear and pain. And as they rode into the heart of the village itself, coming to a stop, she plastered a big smile on her face as they were besieged by the villagers, awe-struck, some crying.

There were hands on her immediately, reaching out to hold her, pat her on the back. Murtagh and Thorn landed to the surprise of practically everyone, and Amon shouted over the noise that he had assisted Hal in their rescue. Nice and simple.

And then Hal saw them.

The children all came running first, looks of uncertainty becoming faces of delight, pain shifting to tears of relief the moment they laid eyes on the fathers returning home. Amon, Cado, Ayo, and Sam quickly broke away from the group, their facades finally cleaving in two as they ran to their families. The group parted for them, watching the reunions in happiness. The wives were close behind, and Hal struggled to swallow the rock in her throat as they received long, hard kisses of affection. Eli and his wife, Ophelia, their child once again strapped to her back, were also there, and Eli received playful kisses of his own from his friends.

She breathed.

She had done what she set out to do. She had made sure these men made it home. And though her heart was heavy with her own grief, she was truly happy for them. Happy that this nightmare could be over for them. That these families would not yet know the sting of loss. She would take her pain and she would continue to bury it, for this. To make sure no family in her village had to wonder if they would ever see their loved ones again.

But it wasn't until she saw her own family that she felt home. Denu walked carefully, the walking stick she had made him his guide, although sometimes she felt it was more for show than necessity. Mennes was beside him, both men wearing smiles of relief. Hal kept herself hidden for just a moment in the crowd. If she went to him too soon, the careful resolve she had been building would collapse. Above anyone else, she could not let him see her like that. All he had done for her, undone. But she would not put him through that again, her suffering.

She breathed.

Then she pulled Nani towards them, out of the crowd. Denu's robes were simple and white, almost glowing in the high sun. Like a beacon, calling her to him. Calling her home. He seemed to sense her before Mennes put a knowing hand on his shoulder. But she was already there, sliding her arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. His hands on her back felt safe and reassuring.

"My brave, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Welcome home."

…

As the reunions began to calm, the questions began to filter in one after the other. Murtagh watched from the side, keeping a careful distance. He had no idea what they would say to appease the villagers, if they would tell the truth. He could see it in the men's faces that they had no idea either, and they looked torn on whether or not they should speak. If they would even be believed.

"The situation, we believe, is under control." Eyes turned towards Halen, who spoke loudly and clearly to be heard over the chatter. Murtagh watched her carefully. "As predicted, the lovuk had become increasingly aggressive. But thanks to the work of the men, we may have found why."

"Why?"

Halen shot the speaker a playful look of annoyance. "I'm getting to that Chi, stop being so impatient."

Laughter from the group. Murtagh had to refrain from blinking, because otherwise he would think this was a completely different person than the one who had emerged from the cave. She was almost like her normal self. Yet, if he didn't pay attention to the emptiness in her eyes, filled with nothing more than false pretenses, he would be fooled like everyone else.

"Part of their food supply was compromised. We're not sure how that happened, but the lovuk were rabid because of it. The increased aggression was what was making them so confrontational. We got rid of all contaminated food we could find, but it may take some time before we know if it worked or not. Keep to your usual routines, travel in pairs. Hunt within the village parameters. And please let me or a village elder know immediately if you see anything unusual."

Heads were nodding, the lie falling smoothly from her lips. She spoke confidently, but was reassuring all the same. "Did you fight off the lovuk to save my papa?"

Murtagh recognized the little girl from the window, the one who had mimicked Halen's mannerisms almost exactly. Amon was holding her and one other child in his arms, another girl. But Layla wiggled herself free so that she could run to Halen, who picked her up and planted her on her hip.

"I sure did. And I won."

"You _always_ win, Hal."

Even Murtagh could see how strained her smile became at that.

It wasn't until Denu stepped in, insisting everyone needed rest, that people began to return to their work. There was a call for a celebration which received a round of cheers and applause. As the crowd dispersed, even Murtagh noticed how the smiles on the men and Halen began to fade as they all struggled to save face. It was painful to watch.

"I'll return the horses to the stables," Halen volunteered suddenly, setting Layla down, who protested sharply.

"We can get it, Hal," Sam offered, his brows furrowed with concern as she grabbed for the reigns in his hand.

"No. Spend time with your families, rest, eat, drink, be merry. Besides, you know I am not one for idleness. I will find something to occupy myself at any moment, so I may as well start with this."

She made a point not to look Murtagh's way as she left, the horses in tow. Murtagh's gaze never strayed, however, taking in her stiff shoulders and harried walk. He laid a hand on Thorn's side, asking for a moment, before following after her.

He kept his distance, unsure of what he was doing or expected to happen. He was rather surprised no one stopped him, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to give anyone a chance either.

Up ahead he saw Halen disappear into the stables, and he hesitated. She was clearly still mad at him, and he knew that now wasn't the best time to intrude on her privacy, all things considering. Then he heard a crash from inside the stables and the horses skittering nervously. He swore, rushing forward, recalling those painful seconds when she had been taken the first time and fearing the worst.

But when he threw open the stable doors, he found nothing but a rolling bucket that had been filled with water, judging by the spilled contents on the ground and on Halen's boots and legs. She had braced herself on the door of one of the stalls, the horse inside gazing at her as if she were mad.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice clipped.

Murtagh bit back a sharp retort, reminding himself that despite his transgressions towards her, her emotions were valid. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said truthfully.

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps it seems that way to the other villagers — that was an impressive performance, by the way. You almost had me convinced. But you're not 'fine,' Halen."

"Don't tell me what I feel."

"I'm just pointing out what I see." She didn't respond, facing away from him as her hold on the wood tightened, her fingertips turning white at the pressure. "You don't have to talk to me," he continued slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "Just talk to someone."

She scoffed. "There's nothing to say. The men have endured enough —"

"Compared to you, they've endured nothing."

"It's not a pissing contest, rider!" she snapped. "To think, even for a moment, you may never see those you love again, for some, is a pain worse than death."

He breathed, feeling like a fool for not knowing what to say. "Halen —"

"You have already done more than enough," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And I will never, _never_ forget this chance that you have given me, nor will I waste it. But you need not worry about me any longer. I'll be fine."

Murtagh watched her as she turned her back to him, making sure the horses were taken care of and taking extra care not to look at him. Finally, he turned around and left, much to Thorn's surprise. _You're just going to leave it like that?!_

 _She doesn't want to talk, I won't force her too. Besides, she clearly doesn't feel comfortable with me, I will not push myself on her if that's not what she wants._

He could feel Thorn shaking his head. _She is too much like you. She will not talk to anyone. She will lock her emotions inside herself until they drive her mad. And this still leaves us with very little information surrounding her magic. We cannot forget that._

 _I haven't forgotten it Thorn, but she won't say. She shut me down last night when I tried to ask. She'd probably chuck the next bucket at my head if I tried again._

 _We should tell Eragon what we have discovered, at least. Perhaps he may have some ideas._

 _Perhaps. But I won't._

 _What?!_

 _I do not want Halen or this village involved in anything else. The Ra'zac was more than enough, I'm sure, to last them a lifetime. Eragon may insist we do something I am not willing to do, or he may tell Nasuada. We came out here, we found the Ra'zac and made sure they were stopped before they could harm anyone else._

 _We found two Ra'zac. What if there are more? Who are they serving that they kept referring to, that made those wards so intricately that even our magic barely worked? You know in your heart, as I do mine, that this is far from over. You felt the woman's magic. It is not what we have come to understand magic to be. Galbatorix didn't radiate power like that. And she is untrained and unaware of what she possesses._

Murtagh already knew the answer to his next question, but found himself asking anyway. _What exactly are you suggesting?_

 _That we stay. Just for a little while longer. And I already have an idea on how to convince them to let us._


	20. Chapter 20: Scars

Hal was lying awake in bed, still fighting every urge to fall asleep. Her torch was still lit, casting ominous shadows that were almost as unsightly as whatever her mind would conjure in the dark. So, she was still awake when it happened.

It was almost like an instantaneous shock to the system. Just as it had been behind those wards hiding the Ra'zac, the world seemed to suddenly fall silent. There was no wind, no insects. No trees moved, and even Hal's own breathing stilled as her hair stood on end. She quietly got out of bed, drawing her dagger from under her pillow, ignoring how her hands shook. Was someone here? Had there been more Ra'zac? She shuddered at the thought, wary of leaving her bed but hating, even more, the feeling of being caught off guard.

She ventured slowly outside, stunned to find the rider standing there and staring off into the dark, starry night sky with a look of apprehension on his face. He didn't move as she took up the space beside him, but he spoke. "You feel it too."

She nodded her head — even though he was making a statement not asking a question — licking her lips slowly. "What is it?"

"It's hard to say for certain," he cautioned, his tone full of frustration and regret. She could sense his own unease, and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very cold standing in just her nightgown. "But it almost feels like raw energy."

She blinked, unsure of what he meant. "Energy?"

"When magic users actually use magic, it takes energy. The effort it would require to complete a task by hand is still required when you use magic to do it instead."

"Truly? Makes magic a bit of a waste then, doesn't it? Why wouldn't you just do it yourself then?"

He seemed amused by her questions, chuckling quietly. "You would think, but there are some advantages to it." Unconsciously, he looked down at her hands, then quickly averted his gaze as he looked back up at the sky. Hal did not have to follow his gaze to know he had glanced down at her hands. The scars that remained from the mangled mess that had once been. He had a point. "But whatever this is," he continued, "that's what it feels like. Like raw energy is filling the air."

Hal closed her eyes. She slowed her breathing, listening, taking in the world around her without the influence of her sight, just as Denu had taught her. It took her a few moments, but she sucked in her breath sharply when she felt it. The buzz in the air, almost cackling. It felt similar to what she had felt when her body drew on the magic within. This was subtler, but it was there.

It was unsettling, and Hal opened her eyes, taking a steadying breath before she lost her composure. "I have this sinking suspicion the Ra'zac were just the beginning," she admitted, keeping her gaze on the sky and stars above. "And that scares me, rider. The not knowing."

"I don't like it either," he admitted, his voice full of understanding. "I wish there was more that I could do. But until I have concrete evidence of what we're dealing with…"

"You've already done so much. Do not push yourself on our account. I already feel guilty that you wasted so much of your energy and magic on me —"

"Don't think for one second it was _wasted_ ," he said sharply. "Not for one second, Halen. Because I know, without a doubt, that I would do it again so long as it meant sparing your life."

She couldn't help but meet his gaze then, stunned at the intensity of his declaration. Moved by it. The moonlight heightened the grey in his eyes, the kindness in them. Had such an emotion always been there, or was it simply a trick of the light, perhaps her nerves riled up from the events of the last few days? And yet she felt a sense of calmness wash over her, and Hal looked away as her cheeks grew hot at the passion of his gaze.

"It was still risky," she continued. "You have not healed completely either."

"I knew what I was doing."

His tone was brusque, like it was nothing. But when she dared peek over at him, his face looked troubled. Hal's chest felt tight. This was such unfamiliar territory for her, in almost every capacity. She didn't know what to say or do so that it all felt less uncomfortable. And yet she knew what he probably needed to hear, she was not yet strong enough to say.

However, she was spared from forcing the words when the trees began to sway as they always did. A gust of wind rolled through, bringing with it a return to normalcy so that no one in the village would know about what had happened except for her and the rider. Hal felt her breathing loosen, but she was still uneasy.

"What you told the villagers, about the lovuk's food supply — how did you manage to make that up?"

She raised a brow at him. "I didn't." He looked at her, his face puzzled. "The giant that made the print. The fully-grown Ra'zac..."

Murtagh nodded. "The Lethrblaka."

 _Lethrblaka_. She said it again so that she wouldn't forget. "I don't know it's…dietary habits, but it was eating animals when we found it. If you take that creature plus Thorn, both feeding on the food supply that normally belongs to lovuk…" She shrugged. "Our island can only hold so many giant predators. Thorn may have to also hunt lovuk as well, if he can, or expand his hunting grounds so they do not travel towards any other villages searching for food."

Murtagh blinked, looking dumbfounded. "I will be sure to let him know."

"We should head back inside," Hal said after a few moments. She glanced back out at the woods, then turned to Murtagh. "Get some rest."

"You go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

She was about to ask why when something told her to forget about it. His gaze left little room for argument, and she felt little inclination to wind herself up so late at night. Yet she didn't move, reading his face and watching for a sign that something was wrong. Or did he just want his privacy? But his eyes were steady and sure, so she felt confident enough to bid him a goodnight, finally forcing herself to walk back towards the hut.

…

Murtagh could tell Halen had not gotten any more sleep than he had. Even though her room was finally dark by the time he returned to the space he had been occupying, he felt acutely aware of her movements, heightened by how quiet it was around them. How she tossed and turned. Eventually she fell still, but he could picture her sitting up in her cot, legs hugged to her chest, staring at the wall. He did almost the exact same thing through the rest of the night, unable to sleep after what he had felt earlier.

He had not been entirely truthful with her about the raw energy in the air. For that's what he believed it was. And the only reason he had an inkling of it, was because it was how _her_ magic had felt. But where Halen's faded in and out, uncontrolled with her inexperience and brought forth by her agony, this felt like the opposite. It was like Halen's magic had called to it, and it had answered.

She moved early to start her chores, running in and out of the hut before the sun had even broken through the horizon. He could hear the fire going, hear her chopping wood out back as she greeted Thorn. It wasn't long before the smell of fresh-baked bread permeated the hut, and Murtagh's stomach growled with anticipation.

Halen gently woke Denu so that he could come and eat and, together, the three of them sat in a rather awkward silence. He kept his head down, eating quietly and sipping on the sweet tea that came with his meal. At one point, he met Halen's gaze across the table. He could see in her eyes that she knew just how uncomfortable this was. She quickly looked away, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Murtagh, you will be joining us for tonight's celebrations, right?"

Murtagh regretfully tore his eyes away even though Denu had no way of knowing where he was looking. "I'd rather not intrude —"

"Don't be ridiculous. The men were all singing you and Thorn's praises yesterday. We insist you join us."

Murtagh honestly just didn't want to go. He looked to Halen for a sign of how to get out of it and froze. She was crying quietly. Murtagh stared, confused and surprised, but didn't want to call attention to it.

"Sure," he said absentmindedly. "Of course, I'll be there."

"Denu, are you finished?" Halen asked, her voice steady despite her tears.

When the man nodded, she quickly set about clearing the table, ignoring Murtagh's offers to help. She wouldn't even meet his gaze. When she was gone, Denu opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Murtagh was sure he could sense something was off with Halen, even if he didn't know the specifics. It had to be frustrating, not knowing how to help. Not even knowing what was wrong to begin with.

Halen managed to slip out of the hut undetected, but Murtagh, it would seem, did not possess the same level of covertness. He was surprised when Amon approached him as he stood beside Thorn, his face grim. "Can we talk?"

Murtagh eyed him warily. The man was disheveled and clearly exhausted, likely kept up by his family. But he didn't seem as happy as one would expect after such an ordeal. Murtagh looked away. "You wish to discuss Halen."

"I just…she seems rather fond of you, in her own sort of way. I wasn't sure, if perhaps…"

Murtagh could read well enough between the lines. "No. Not even to me does she talk of her ordeal. Regardless of her 'fondness' of me, if that even is the case, we are still just strangers to one another. I doubt she would unburden her feelings to me."

Amon looked crestfallen. To himself, he mumbled, "We should've never chased after those damn prints. We were too reckless, and only Eli and Halen suffered for it."

"I doubt either of them would see it that way."

"Perhaps not yet. But the human mind is a fickle thing. And I would not fault them if thoughts of resentment crept into their mind at some point. Hal is proud, stubbornly so. She will not openly let it be known that she is frightened. But I know her, more than she probably realizes but not as well as I would like. But I know when she's scared. Those damn creatures shook us all up. Never seen anything like that on the island. Spent most of our time in the cave out there because we were too scared that those things would follow us to the village."

Murtagh hardly heard him. "Why doesn't Halen talk about the war?" he asked outright, looking into Amon's eyes.

"Your guess is as good as mine. No one knows anything about her life before she came to us, and she was ten when that happened."

He blinked in surprise. That was around the same time she had received her scars. "Not even Denu?"

"Especially not Denu. Hal feels so indebted to the man she won't even tell him when she gets a splinter." Amon sighed, running his hand down his face. "That's why I came to you, Dragon Rider. She'll keep all of her feelings locked up, what happened to her. She'll put on a pretty face so as not to worry the villagers — you already saw it for yourself. And then she'll collapse from the strain of it. I don't want it to get that far. She needs help."

"You must truly be desperate if you're coming to me though. Not that I won't help if I can, but still — why me?"

"Like calls to like," Amon said cryptically. "I've never seen Hal quite so comfortable around someone so quickly. I could see it in the way you two spoke to each other. To you it may feel like she's keeping her distance, but take it from me: she's warming up to you."

Murtagh felt so conflicted, not wanting to take this man's word about how Halen was feeling. Yet he was still surprisingly pleased, a bit of warmth spreading through his chest. He thought of Thorn's proposition yesterday and had an idea. "Actually, Amon, there is something Thorn and I wish to discuss with you. And it may give me some time to help Halen as well."

…

By the time Murtagh emerged from the hut, completely and properly bathed and in a clean set of clothes, he felt more human than he had in months. Perhaps even years. Of course, he had to rinse off in the river behind the hut first, getting the fine layer of dirt, sweat, and grim off of him. Then he had stepped into the bath Halen had made for him, thanking her quietly even though her expressionless face left little room for much else. As he sunk down into the warm water, oils smelling of pine and lavender, he felt his muscles relax completely. Honestly, he could've fallen asleep.

He'd dried off, running his hand down his face and beard. He hadn't shaved properly in more than a year. He knew he must've looked mad, mainly because Thorn would seek to remind him every so often. And had done as much earlier when he recommended that Murtagh not appear at the celebration looking _like that_. Denu had offered him a razor, but Murtagh hadn't been seriously considering it until now.

Now, as he stood outside beside Thorn, continuously running his hand across his now smooth jawline, he felt…lighter, but more exposed. In his own way, the beard had been his own way of giving up. Not caring of his appearance because he had no indication of being seen by anyone. And now he was preparing to attend a party.

He was going to kill Eragon. It wasn't his fault, but Murtagh would blame him anyway.

He had hoped Halen would show up, so he could use her as a buffer. But she didn't appear, and Amon and Denu found him first. People were leaving their huts at the same time, dressed in fresh clothes of varying colors, but white seemed to be the predominate pick. There was an air of joy he had never felt before, and as they reached the village center, he was amazed by the sight before him.

It had been completely put together, long tables that could probably seat fifty or so people were lined up in rows. There were two large bonfires, rotating giant boars over the flames that were close to done. Now that he was close, the smell was magnificent. Tankards of wine were being passed around, along with plates of bread, cheese, and fruit to whet any appetites before the meat was ready. Streamers hung between the wood beams of the hut in the center, more people sitting inside out of the direct line of the sun even though it was evening and the temperatures were easy-going and comfortable at this hour.

In his silent scan of the landscape, he found Halen. How he managed to do so in such a crowd of people was beyond him, but there she was. Without realizing it, he sucked in a small breath. She had gotten someone to even out the ends of her hair after she cut them to escape the Ra'zac, to run to his side. He swallowed at the memory. Now her dark curls fell just past her shoulders instead of down her back. The look suited her just as well as any though. And she wore a fitted dress that hung off her shoulders, white like many of the others. It clung modestly to her hips, but the curves were still noticeable enough that he grew flushed. But he still couldn't make himself look away. Not even when she looked up and caught him staring. She blinked in surprise, and he remembered that the beard was gone.

Something about her drew him in, and he took a step to move towards her when someone else moved in front of her, shoving a cup of wine in her hands and dragging her off, chatting animatedly. Halen gave him a quick, passing glance before he was out of sight completely, and he thought perhaps he saw regret in her eyes. Murtagh froze, feeling very foolish as he stepped back. What on earth had he been thinking?

"I owe you an apology, Dragon Rider."

He turned, surprised to find Sam watching him coolly. The man stepped forward, so that they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder. "For ambushing you the way I did, back in the cave. It was out of line."

Murtagh had to refrain from making a face. Did Sam believe that Murtagh cared for something like that? "You were looking out for Halen. I can't fault you for that."

Sam shook his head. "No, I wasn't. Hal has always been able to look out for herself. And if she thought enough of you to travel with you, that should've been enough for me. She's a good judge of character, our girl. No, I was just being an ass. And I shouldn't have let it get the best of me."

"Think nothing of it," Murtagh mumbled.

Sam sighed. "Come. You look like a lost lamb standing here."

Murtagh wanted to protest that he couldn't leave Thorn, but the dragon insisted. _Live freely, young one. Even if only for a night_.

But he couldn't — not really, anyway. Sure, the food was delicious and the music hypnotic and loud, but there was something missing. Something off. And he realized it was the fact that the people who were supposed to be honored with this gathering were all seated off the side, out of sight, and having no fun. The men looked almost miserable, drinking cups after cups of wine but apparently feeling none of it by their sober and somber expressions.

Murtagh had no doubt they were seeing Halen's lifeless form on the ground, broken. She came close to not coming home at all. And the happy faces of everyone around them only emphasized the dark truth of what was happening. It was hard to muster up any joyous energy at the moment. Although they quickly transformed their faces if anyone approached, citing exhaustion as the reason for their lack of movement.

Every so often, Murtagh would find Halen in the crowd. It got easier and easier the more he did it. She didn't see him from his spot in the shadows, which he preferred. How she was able to put on a smile, to laugh, only made his chest ache more. Because the pain in her eyes was always there, like she was still screaming on the inside. But he was beginning to think no one else could see it. And he wondered how long it had taken her to perfect such a mask.

He could see the scars on her hand in the firelight, see how tightly her fingers clenched her wine cup. How they shook. And eventually, he couldn't stand it any longer. Couldn't stand watching Hal's obvious suffering while everyone around her was too dense to even notice. How could they not notice? Or worse, if they did, how could they say nothing?

"Rider, where are you going?"

He couldn't quite make sense of the sudden over-protective nature he felt. Perhaps because Amon had said he knew how scared she was. And yet she was exerting herself trying to act like nothing happened. He firmly pushed through the crowd, excusing himself as he tried not to stumble.

She only noticed him when he was right beside her, grabbing her hand and mumbling some pathetic excuse about borrowing her for a moment. The woman she had been talking to looked surprised, but did not stop them as he pulled Halen away from the party, away from the music, and dancing, and conversation, and noise, and joy. Pulled her into the darkness, the quiet, the emptiness, the stillness.

When they finally came to a stop, Murtagh wasn't even able to face her. He was bewildered by his own actions, and unsure of what temperament he would face when he turned around. Her hand was warm in his, and he let it go, clenching his fingers tightly.

Small noises from Halen made him turn. She was crying, her face in her hands as she struggled to maintain her composure. Murtagh looked around them, making sure they were, indeed, alone. He hesitated for a split second before finally caving, unable to stand the thought of how alone she must've felt, even in the sea of people she loved. He gripped the back of her neck firmly, pulling her slowly into his chest, trying to make her feel an ounce of the safety she had lost in that cave.

He was rather relieved she didn't push him away in disgust. Instead, she only cried harder, hiding her face in his chest to muffle her sobs as her arms came around his waist, her fingers gripping the material of his tunic as if fearing he would suddenly leave her. He didn't know how long they stood there. He didn't know how long she cried. But he would stand there for however long she needed him to, even if it was all night.

…

"I can't believe they're still going at it."

Hal looked up as the rider approached, two newly-filled wineskins in hand. "I didn't tell you were a village full of raging drunks? Any reason to eat and drink all night long receives little resistance here."

Her voice still cracked a bit as she spoke, and she sniffed, blinking back the last few remaining tears that tried to make their way down her cheeks, rubbed raw from her handkerchief. Murtagh didn't comment on her state of being as he sat down beside her, handing Hal her wine. "To raging drunks," he toasted.

Hal tipped her container to his. "To raging drunks."

They drank in silence, Hal listening to the humming of the cicadas around them. The night was rather toasty, nary a cool breeze in sight. They sat on the river's edge, their shoes tossed to the side, sitting with the water to their ankles. Murtagh had rolled up his pant legs, but Hal just let her skirt flow with the current.

They had hardly said a word to each other once she stopped crying, which had been a task in and of itself. How he had known when to pull her away, she was too embarrassed to ask. But he had, and she was grateful to him for it. She had felt like she was wound up too tight the entire time, plastering on smile after smile, trying to ignore the sounds of her bones breaking in her hand. Keeping the fire away from her back because the heat reminded her too much of the burn from the poison. She had thought she was strong enough to handle a simple party, but it had mentally exhausted her before it had even begun. But if she had refused to go, if she didn't put on a happy face, they would know something was up. The others had looked so despondent, people had been whispering something was wrong. And she couldn't let them think that. So, she had amped up her efforts in the hope of distracting the villagers from Amon and the others.

She pushed her hair back from her face, her hand running down the back of her head to the back of her neck. She swallowed nervously. She could still feel Murtagh's grip on her neck, his hand holding hers. Even now, his presence was a comfort. She didn't look up at him, already feeling his eyes on her, which only made her face burn hotter.

She finished another container of wine, sighing heavily with irritation that she still felt nothing. What was that, her fourth or her fifth? Seventh? "Should I be concerned?" Murtagh teased, but she could hear the slight apprehension there as well.

"I'm not nearly drunk enough to be of any concern, rider, don't you worry."

He didn't respond, and the silence stretched on. Hal struggled to speak, unsure of what to say or do. She was too mortified to thank him for keeping her company, still hating that she had completely lost her composure like that. Better him than someone from the village, but she'd have preferred it if no one had seen it at all.

Murtagh shoved his wineskin under her nose and she looked up at him in surprise. "You trying to get me drunk, dragon rider?"

He gave her a curt look and she shrugged mirthlessly, taking the wine from his hands. Hal ran her fingers around the rim, nervously glancing at the rider from the corner of her eyes. He seemed content enough, just sitting there watching the water flow through the river. His lack of facial hair continued to surprise her every time she looked at him. It was almost shocking to see him without the beard, despite how wild and untamed it had been. But she had been getting used to it. To see him so suddenly without it was jarring, to say the least. However, the longer she looked at him, the more…himself he seemed. Younger than she had first assumed. Certainly, less mad. More…

"Handsome," she mumbled.

Murtagh's eyes went wide as he looked at her. "What?"

"What?"

"Did you just call me 'handsome'?"

She turned her head. "No."

"You did."

"I did not."

"It's because the beard is gone, isn't it?" He self-consciously ran his hands over his jaw again.

Hal couldn't respond, her lips fastened onto the wineskin as she took deep, long pulls. If she couldn't toss herself into the river and disappear downstream, she might as well continue trying to get drunk and pray she forgot this conversation entirely. Although, if she were thinking clearly, she'd realize drinking more wine is probably what loosened her lips to begin with. She was hardly ever so careless.

"I'm feeling very vulnerable, Halen, can you compliment my eyes next."

She spit out her wine, practically choking on it, always caught off guard when he displayed any sense of humor. He was grinning like mad, watching her beat on her chest as she struggled to breathe. "You ass," she wheezed, slapping his arm.

"Call me what you will. As long as I'm still handsome, I don't even care."

She could not help but laugh, wiping her eyes. When she finally quieted down, she felt relaxed enough, comfortable enough despite her guffaw, to say, "Thank you, Murtagh. It feels good to laugh."

His expression softened. "You're welcome." She could tell there was more he wanted to say, and waited patiently until he finally spoke again. "I can tell how much you love them," he began. She knew he meant the villagers, and didn't interrupt as he pressed forward. "But you do know you don't owe them anything, right?"

She inhaled sharply.

"I'm not trying to say they don't deserve it, or that you shouldn't care," he added quickly. She exhaled. "I've never met someone as kind as you. As selfless. But Halen, it's okay to think about yourself. If you weren't ready to come out, I'm sure Denu would've understood without knowing the specific reason why. And the others, Amon, Sam, Cado, Ayo, even Eli, would've covered for you."

Hal blinked, her jaw tightly clenched as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's not just for them," she said in a low voice. "I need to do this for me too."

"Why?"

"I just…you wouldn't understand," she said dismissively, too embarrassed by her own thoughts to bother trying to put them into words. She had no inclination to try and fail to explain her rationale. Her desperate need for some semblance of normalcy. When it came to objective observations and conversation, Hal was as articulate as they come. But when she tried to justify her own thoughts and emotions, she got tripped up over how embarrassing it felt to talk about such notions.

"Wouldn't I though?" Murtagh said softly.

Hal looked over at him, eyes questioning, before she realized her mistake. Her crass, arrogant, horrible mistake. Her eyes fell to his chest, where his scars lay hidden underneath his tunic. "Murtagh, I'm so —"

"Don't. Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"No, I shouldn't have assumed —"

"It's not like you know anything about me," he interrupted, his voice tight with emotion, but she could tell he was trying to keep his feelings to himself.

She didn't dare speak, unsure if he was trying to gather his thoughts or control his emotions. Perhaps both, based on how stressed he looked. She was torn between being concerned and being curious. Something in the way he seemed to strain himself made her wonder…did he want her to ask?

"May I…may I see them?" she asked, gesturing to his torso.

He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. She feared, perhaps, she had read him wrong. But he exhaled slowly before reaching for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up and over his head. She felt her breath catch in her throat as his injuries were revealed to her once again. Just barely, she could make out the faint scars from his attack on the beach by the Nïdhwal that he had not been strong enough to fully heal. His skin was already tanning from his time in the sun, but the scars still seemed luminescent, especially in the moonlight. He kneeled before her, granting her access to view his past injuries.

Too close to not be curious, Hal got on her knees as well, setting down the wineskin as she faced him, close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. She gave him one last look, silently asking permission. He nodded, his gaze boring into hers that she quickly ducked her head again. Her head was buzzing with the wine as her fingers found their first mark. A burn in the shape of a claw.

"Thorn and I were sent to capture Eragon and Saphira not long after we were forced to swear fealty to Galbatorix," he murmured, his chest vibrating under her fingers as he spoke. She frowned. Forced to? "I found a loophole in his instructions, letting them go. He was…displeased."

She swallowed, feeling rather dizzy. Hal bit her lip before running her hands across his peck to a short, but thick scar. "Also the king's handiwork. One of my earlier injuries I received, when I initially refused to join him."

As her fingers roamed across half-decade old wounds made up of blades, magic, poison, and the like, a picture began to form in her mind. A dawning of understanding that finally fell into place. The distance he kept, the bitterness when he spoke. The regret that had stumped her. Now she knew the truth. And she felt ill, but she forced herself to listen to his story, his torment. The pain in his voice, the shame in his eyes. She had moved to his back, avoiding the obvious until there was nothing left. And when her fingertips graced the top of the long, ropey scar down his back, he tensed underneath her.

"My father, when I was three-years-old. Laid open by the sword I still carry."

She knew he couldn't see her tears, so she let them fall. To carry so much weight. So much hurt. She could not help but think of her own father and all he had sacrificed so that she may live. She had been so loved as a child, so cared for. Even now. She couldn't imagine the people of her two villages ever harming her. But the thought of a parent doing this to their child? It made her sick with disgust. How different their upbringings had been. "Can you not heal them with your magic?"

"I've tried, using every combination of the Ancient Language that I could think of. But Galbatorix used dark magic, so that I could never forget who controlled who. Even now, he is laughing at me from the grave."

Her head was spinning with questions. She stared at his back, feeling just as lost as he did. "Why haven't you said anything?" she said in a low voice. "Why didn't you say that you did not serve Galbatorix of your own fruition? Why did you let us all think —?"

"Because it does not change what I did. I still must live with the consequences of my actions."

"But…you were under duress. Perhaps if you sought clemency or a pardon —"

"Only the queen may enact a pardon to someone accused of war crimes and treason, and either I or someone able to speak on my behalf would even be allowed to file the request. I cannot just waltz into the capital and ask for my freedom and it cannot just be handed over. More than likely, I would be killed on sight. I have made many enemies, even if my actions were not my own." His tone was sharp with bitterness.

The alcohol was starting to make her head spin. Or perhaps it was the revelation that there was still more to this man than she had thought. Or maybe a combination of the two. Her hands were still on his back, and without thinking she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to it. Half wanting to comfort him, half just needing to close her eyes until the world became still.

"And Thorn?" she whispered, recalling his words from days past: _I do not regret Thorn, and I do not regret my powers. I do regret how I used them, how_ he _was used_. "Was he —?"

Murtagh did not answer, which was truly answer enough. They were quiet, Hal breathing slowly, staring at the scars on his back. The images they conjured frightened her. The thought of chains and heated irons being used to break him and Thorn. Her mere hours in that cave with the Ra'zac had been their reality for months. She squeezed her eyes shut, the cracking of a whip loud in her head. The breaking of her bones. All he had endured and she couldn't even speak of what had transpired twelve years ago. She felt cowardly, especially after he had talked her through so much of his own sordid history. Yet now she understood some of the rage she had felt from him when he was in her mind. The anguish that had drawn her to him.

She took a deep breath. "Murtagh, I —"

"I'm going to stop you right there," he said quickly. Hal sat up as he turned to face her. He must've seen the pain on her face, because his own softened in surprise. "I've upset you."

"Yes. I mean no, not you. I just…" She was not in the right frame of mind for this discussion. She forced herself to focus, digging her nails into her palm. She could feel her heartbeat getting faster, making it harder to catch her breath. She tried to speak, but it was hard. So hard. Like her body was rejecting the very words she had never spoken. The memories that she had pushed back deep into the crevices of her mind, hoping they would rot. And just the act of pulling them back to the surface, or recalling the end of her childhood, made her want to throw-up.

"Halen, _stop_." He took his face in her hands, firmly but gently forcing her head up so that she would look at him.

"But I —"

"I did not tell you these things to make you feel obligated to reveal any of your past," he said gently, understanding finally reaching him. Her heart began to slow. "That would be a trick of the cruelest kind, and I do not wish to deceive you like that."

Her hands began to loosen up, half-moon marks dug into her skin. The tension began to leave her, bit by bit. Her head became clearer, her breathing even. She was relieved. But she still felt wretched.

"I just wanted you to know," he continued. "Partly because…because against my better judgment, I think I needed to tell someone. For my own benefit. To get it off my chest. To be heard. And I'm glad it was you because you seem to understand where as others wouldn't. But I also wanted you to know, so that if you ever did need someone to talk to, someone who would understand —"

"What's the point of all of this if you'll be gone in a matter of days?" If she even had that long.

She could've sworn, could've _sworn_ , she felt his thumb brush her cheek. Why else would her heartrate pick back up so suddenly? But he looked like he was struggling with something, so if he had done it, perhaps it had been unconsciously? She needed to stop drinking on an empty stomach.

"What if I told you I intended to stay for a little while longer?"

"How long is 'a little while'?"

"I spoke with Amon —"

"Amon knows?!"

"It was Thorn's idea. He felt guilty — last time, we left despite the fact that he had destroyed their hut. He figured using the cover of wanting to stay to help rebuild — while actually doing so — would give us an opportunity to do the right thing. We'd also make sure the village was safe before we left. That _you_ were safe."

"You would do that for us?"

"Well you did tell me to take my anger and channel it into something good." His tone was light, teasing, and she flushed at the memory. "You weren't wrong," he continued in her silence. "And Thorn has talked of wanting to right our wrongs for quite some time. Plus, he likes it here. Likes the weather. And the people," he said, looking pointedly at her.

"And you?"

He grinned. "I could get used to it."

He finally lowered his hands, her cheeks feeling cold. Her gaze was level with his chest, with his wounds. "I'm sorry he hurt you. I'm sorry he hurt Thorn. I'm sorry your father was such a bastard instead of a father. And I'm sorry that you have had to bear this burden on your own. It's not fair."

He didn't respond, but it was as though his breathing became easier.

Hal boldly leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders for balance, figuring it was out of character for her but wanting to do it anyway knowing she could use the wine as an excuse. She kissed his cheek, grateful for all he was doing for her and her people. The skin was smooth under her lips, warm. And he smelled of the fire from the celebration and the oils from his bath. She pulled away, giving him a soft smile as she did. "May that kiss be the first of many, softer touches your body receives."

She rose to her feet, only wavering slightly. Still able to hear the continuing celebration and wondering if there would be any food left. She looked down at Murtagh, who looked quite…she smiled. He was touching his cheek, eyes perplexed and surprised. "Do you wish to be alone?"

After a slight pause, he shook his head. Hal held out her hand for him to take. "Come along then, rider. I'm hungry."

"Have you been drinking all this time on an empty stomach?" His hand slid smoothly into hers.

"I know, I know. Now hurry, I may be able to scrounge up some of Tena's dessert while there's still time."

They walked in silence, eyes forward, hands behind their backs. But for the first time in her life, Hal felt more than just at ease. She felt understood. Finally, there was someone out there who, although she wouldn't wish it on anyone, understood how hard life could be. Who did not push her to talk, but allowed her to listen. She was grateful for that. Grateful to him.

Their shoulders brushed as they walked, and when they finally reached the rest of the village, Hal knew her smile was real. Even if it was only for a little while. But it didn't matter, because even if she faltered, for the rest of the night, the rider was right behind her.


	21. Chapter 21: A Past Remembered

That night, Hal finally caved in to basic human desire and collapsed, exhausted, onto her cot. Her feet were sore from standing, her face hurt from smiling. Her head was buzzing from the wine and her skin was hot from the fire. She forgot how sleepy she got after a night of drinking.

Hal didn't remember falling asleep. But for the first time in twelve years, her dreams suddenly shifted. There was no fire or death like she had feared since she escaped the Ra'zac. Instead she was standing on the beach of Illium, the island of Uden, up ahead. It was too far away to see with the naked, human eye. But Hal knew it was there.

 _Halen._

 _It is time._

That voice. There was something familiar about it. Like something from a forgotten memory. But she couldn't place it, and she didn't try to. But the familiarity made her feel as though she could trust it. And trust it she did.

She took a small step, then another. The warm water lapped at her bare feet, her body sinking into the sand. The feeling tickled at her skin and she smiled. She lifted her foot and took another step. But this time, unless it was a trick of the light…Hal shook her head, but when she took another step, it became unmistakable.

The water was moving out of her way.

Flabbergasted, Hal stumbled back. From a distance, everything appeared to be normal. But something was tugging at her heart. A familiar longing for a home she had lost so many years before. Steeling her resolve, she ran towards the water. Almost immediately, the water parted, responding to every step she took by gently moving out of her way. Hal lifted her skirts, laughing as she ran _through_ the sea. She could see the fish and the reef going about their daily lives, unconcerned of the woman ogling them as she moved past.

Hal had not felt such joy in ages. She held one hand out, running her fingers through the water when, out of nowhere, she felt something dark. A presence. All-consuming and foreign. She came to a halting stop.

And then she felt a pressure on her chest. Hal coughed, rubbing at the space above her breast. And then the pressure doubled and she gasped in pain. She cried out, dropping to her knees. It was as though a hand was clutching her heart, squeezing it tightly. Panicked, Hal took several steps back. And as she did, the hold on her chest lessened.

She prepared for a hasty retreat when a noise gave her pause. She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing in confusion before growing wide when she realized what was happening. The water was collapsing on itself, heading right towards her. Without thinking she turned on her heel to run forward when the pressure on her chest became so unbearable that she burst into tears, collapsing to her knees. It was as though there was a force that didn't want her to move forward. But she couldn't turn back.

 _Wake up._

Hal squeezed her eyes shut, curling up and placing her hands over her head as though to protect it. She felt frozen, stuck.

 _Someone, help me_.

She screamed as the water came down right on top of her. And Hal jerked awake, gasping for air. She had actually been holding her breath, which trapped the scream in her throat. She was shaking horribly, covered in a layer of sweat so thick that her nightgown and sheets stuck to her skin. It had felt so real. And the frightful feeling of being trapped, of being powerless, made her burst into tears. She covered her mouth with her hands, suffocating herself in an effort not to wake the others as she rocked back and forth.

After a while, the sobs subsided and she focused on controlling her breathing, using the techniques that Ayo had taught her to ground herself in her reality, not her dreams. She listened to the world around her, felt the cot underneath her and her weight on it. This was real. She was not going to drown, let alone be crushed under a wave. She was not going to be running through the ocean. She was safe, in her bed, in Denu's hut. Her home. She was home and she was safe.

When the feelings passed and only a tremor remained, Hal rolled over so that she faced the wall, curling up tightly as quiet tears continued to fall down her cheeks. She didn't know what it was about the dream that had frightened her so. Perhaps just how real it had felt, the terror and the water coming down on top of her. She felt like she was going insane. And she knew this would only be the first of many dreams that would haunt her now.

In the quiet of the night, for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to miss her family. Her mother, father, and sister. She missed her father's boisterous laughs, her mother's deep wisdom, and her sister's childlike innocence. And the pain felt like a fresh wound, tearing her chest open with callousness. And it felt so very lonely.

Hal knew she wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon, and padded quietly around her room until she found what she was looking for, using only the dim light from the moon. She sat on her cot, under the window to get as much lighting as she could, her sketchbook splayed open in her lap, dipped quill in hand.

All her life on Illium, she had turned to sketching and tracking to clear her mind. It had started out as nothing more than a hobby, made possible by her endless wanderings in the forest when she needed to escape the village. But the deeper she fell into it, the more she realized what peace it brought her. Not to mention it helped her to make sense of things she didn't understand. She was not always good with people and their emotions — even her own confused her at times. But nature itself was simple, if one was patient enough to take the time to observe and reflect.

She stared at the blank page, flinching at the memories of the Ra'zac. She stared at the scars on her hands, which felt like they were aching under the stress of the memory. She had not felt fear like that in so long. She wasn't sure if she would ever truly feel…right. The scars on her fingers from where they had been broken made that hard enough. Then again, she had not ever truly come to terms with the scars on her back either, and what they signified. So perhaps she hadn't truly been 'right' to begin with.

She swallowed, pressing the quill to the page as she began to let the lines and shadowing drip from her mind to the paper. As she sketched, she mulled over her thoughts quietly. The Ra'zac had recognized her scent, and assumed her to be a magic user. Hal didn't consider herself one, but after the first time she had used it, she had hoped she would never see it again. Until the Ra'zac, she had not produced magic before or after the incident. Had even gone as far as to believe, to hope, that perhaps the first time had been some strange fluke. But even this felt different. The pain the creature exerted on her. She had never before felt like she might physically and mentally break, and it was like the magic had been beating against a wall, a dam so to speak, and after enduring more than she could bear, the dam had cracked and bits had spilled out.

Yet she felt nothing now — although she had no inclination to either. Let those who were properly trained use magic wield it, she had no need.

Hal froze at that thought. _Those who were properly trained…_ Then, she sat up so suddenly that she almost spilled ink on her sheets. She set her book aside, the half-done image of the Ra'zac laid open to dry. She completely forgot to cover her nightgown as she ran out of the room and into where Murtagh was staying, barging in without a second thought.

Mind racing, Hal paid little attention as the rider shot up in bed, gripping a weapon of his own until his eyes adjusted and he recognized her rushing towards him. "Halen? What is it? What's wrong?"

She frowned. "What? Nothing. Put that damn thing away before you take my head off."

He held up his finger like he was prepared to scold her, but he thought better of it, gritting his teeth and lowering his knife. Hal sat down on the edge of his bed and got straight to the point. "Could I be taught how to use magic?"

He blinked, looking seconds from falling back asleep but trying to focus. "I suppose. It's a grueling process, and you'd have to learn the Ancient Language to start. But yes, since you show an affinity for it, I don't see why not."

She inhaled sharply. "So, you'll teach me?"

"No."

He began to roll over, attempting to shut down the conversation. Hal huffed irritably, grabbing his shoulder and making him face her. "Why not?"

"Because it's the middle of the night and I'm feeling quite bitter that you woke me up for this." He frowned as if a thought had crossed his mind. "Why _are_ you up?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said quickly, dismissively, hoping he'd drop it.

He didn't.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"It's nothing. Now back to my original —"

"Don't lie to me, Halen. Tell me you don't want to talk about it. Tell me to shove it up my ass. But don't lie to me. You've been crying."

She fell silent, breathing deeply to center herself. To not get defensive. Admittedly, and perhaps surprisingly, she realized there had been very few things they had actually lied to each other about when trading questions. Annoyed by the truth, Hal looked past his head, trying to appear nonchalant as she said, "I had a bad dream, that's all." But the very nature of it made her shiver, which didn't go unnoticed.

"How bad?"

"Bad enough that I am here instead of in bed asleep, as you may have noticed."

"Was it about what happened to you?"

She shook her head. And he just sat there, waiting. Instead she asked, "Why won't you teach me to use my magic?"

"Because I'm not a teacher. And my teacher was as bad as they come. I'm not the proper —"

"That's not a reason, that's an excuse," Hal fired back. "If anything were to happen —"

"Nothing will happen."

"Then why are you still here," she challenged. "Clearly you can be on your merry way, as there is nothing more for you to worry about here." Murtagh's lips were pursed with the dissatisfaction of how quickly she had unraveled his attempt at nonchalance. "You won't be here forever, rider, at least leave us with a fighting chance should something happen when you're not around!" At least help her not leave behind ruin and destruction in her wake.

"You talk of such things as if this were a simple task, a weekend training. To give you a proper, _rudimentary_ introduction to magic would require months and resources we don't have, not to mention you won't even talk about your magic. And now you want me to teach you how to harness that ability without knowing your history —"

"Why are you so hung up on learning about when, why, and how I've used magic?" Hal snapped. "It's of no concern."

"You treat your magic like you're _scared_ of it, Halen. That's absolutely a concern if I'm to help you. It would be like giving a sword to someone afraid of sharp edges! It's baffling — you act as though you've killed someone."

Hal felt like the earth was tilting underneath her, the blood leaving her face. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her hands growing clammy as the memories began to resurface and take shape. The nausea rose in her throat.

Murtagh looked at her, confused, then stricken with realization. "Oh no. Oh, no, Halen, I'm so —"

He reached for her, but Hal darted out of his room, grief and guilt threatening to seize her. She needed air.

It was all coming back, vivid as if it had unfolded yesterday. The smell of the dirt and grass, wet from the rain. Her bare feet silently following the two figures that had disappeared into the woods. Watching. Horror and realization. She hadn't meant to do it — didn't know she could. Her hand had twitched, a surge of hatred and protectiveness and fear unlike anything she had ever felt, even if she didn't quite understand. And nothing left behind but a body.

Nothing, that is, until she was discovered.

Hal moved towards the forest as fast as her feet would carry her, unaware of where she was going, but it was all too much too fast. But she needed to get away from the hut. She could feel herself about to destruct and she could not be close to the village when it happened.

And then, without warning, she dropped to her knees and threw up in the grass, the putrid smell hitting her almost immediately. Whimpers of pain. Her own or from her memory? She couldn't tell as she heaved again, disgusted as the sour stench of wine hit her. But as her memories resurged with ferocity, she heaved again. And again.

It was her fault. Her fault they were dead. She had unknowingly set events into motion that would take everything from her. Her eyes burned from the smell and anguish. She cradled her stomach, rocking back and forth on her heels, waiting for the desire to throw up to subside.

She heard Murtagh approach from behind her. She squeezed her eyes, her throat raw and burning as she hissed, "Get away from me."

His footsteps paused, and she gasped as sobs racked her body. But he refused to listen, coming closer until he was kneeling down beside her. She felt his hand on her arm and she shirked away from him, wanting to wallow in her own misery like the pathetic cretin she was. She didn't want his comfort. She didn't deserve it. When he reached out again, she threw her hand out, pushing him back vehemently. "I said no!"

She saw him fall back, hitting the ground. A twinge of regret curled in her chest but she forced it down. She hugged herself tightly, loneliness enveloping her like a heavy blanket. And rage. A burning rage that she had never been able to direct at those who deserved it most. So instead, she had always directed it at those who had done nothing but try and help. Denu. Amon. Tena. Everyone.

And now, she would direct it at Murtagh.

"I asked you to leave it alone," she seethed. "I explicitly said I didn't want to talk about it. And you pushed it anyway."

"I know. I didn't think —"

"OBVIOUSLY!" She roared. And there it was. All of her hurt, her misery, her pain from the last few days, the last few years. It was like they had bonded together, morphed into some indistinguishable beast she couldn't even recognize anymore. And she threw all of it at him. "You're so conceited and selfish, it didn't even dawn on you that I didn't want to talk about it because I wasn't ready, did it? But no, you had to push and pry into business that wasn't yours to begin with. All I asked for was your help. So that if the Ra'zac showed up, I could actually defend myself instead of kneel in a pool of my own goddamn piss! But you had to make it about you, as if you're the only person hurting on this damn island. As if you're the only person whose life was destroyed by that godforsaken tyrant."

When she was done, she was practically panting, practically foaming at the mouth. But despite the broken expression in his face as she hurled insult after insult at him, making sure they would stick, she wasn't done. She could feel the words leave her throat, her mind unable to stop them as her desire to spite him took its hold. Despite the pain it would bring her to say the words aloud, despite the suffering she knew she would endure, she wanted to hit him with the truth.

"You want to know the truth so badly, rider? F _ine_. The truth is: the first time I used magic, I killed a soldier of Galbatorix."

…

Murtagh stared at Halen in the darkness, his throat tight, his heart racing. He still hadn't quite processed the harsh insults she had thrown at him, trying to understand why they stung with every hit he took. So her final revelation left him completely blindsided. He blinked, not knowing what to say, how to feel, or if he should even respond.

Halen eventually turned away from him, making a low sound in the back of her throat, a keening cry of pain that unnerved him. She was curled up, hugging herself so tightly as if to make herself smaller. To disappear from view. From him.

"Halen, tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this. How to make this right, and I'll do it."

The fact that his carelessness — heeded only by his irritation at being woken up, of all the stupid reasons — had put her in such a state made him feel like the ass she claimed him to be. He couldn't leave her like this. She was such a distressed wreck he almost feared she may hurt herself.

"Go," she moaned, holding herself and rocking as if to ease the pain.

"What?"

"Just go." He hesitated. "Go!" She repeated, much more firmly. Still, he didn't move. " _Leave_!"

The venom dripped from her voice, seeped out of her eyes and into his very being. Despite his faults, he could take a hint. He rose to his feet, his jaw tightly clenched in anger and regret. He never meant to hurt her. Never meant to reopen old wounds. He wanted her to know that. Wanted her to know how sorry he was.

"GO!" she screamed. His eyes narrowed, almost challenging, and she screamed at him again. "GO!"

He turned on his heel, her biting screams hitting his back as he left, shoulders hunched against the onslaught. When he was far enough away that she was apparently satisfied he wouldn't stay, he could hear Halen burst into tears, heavy, dreadful sobs filling the air around them, sending chills down his spine. He felt his cheeks grow warm with shame, loathing that he had done this. And as he walked back, the sound of her cries carried him all through the night.


	22. Chapter 22: The Girl and the Soldier

**A/N: We are now 22 chapters in, and I just want to say thank you. To everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and favored this story so far: thank you. I love seeing your reviews if you write them, but am just as appreciative to my silent followers. Posting every chapter is a bit of nerve-wracking experience, so I genuinely love seeing your support for this story and its characters. Thank you.**

 **I do want to take this moment to post a content warning for a brief mention of implied sexual assault. Please proceed at your own comfort levels. I've posted a summary of what happens at the bottom of this story.**

* * *

Her sister, Thea, would've turned eighteen this year.

Hal had not thought of her sister in years. Had not dared speak her name. But as she stood on the beach, steps from where she had landed with the rider in tow, she remembered. Or at least, she tried to. Every painful memory, even the happiest of them, were manifesting, but only in bits and pieces. Lullabies with long-forgotten words; learning how to track with her father, but forgetting the lessons; her mother's obscenities when they trekked mud in the house. Oh, how she missed them.

The water rose up on the shore, hitting her feet and burning the open cuts and blisters she had collected walking for miles in the dark. She had felt trapped in the forest, desperate for the open air that only the shores of Illium could provide her. The walk had calmed her somewhat, but it wasn't until the sun began to rise over the water that Hal felt like she could truly breathe again. Now she must face whatever happened next.

The wind was crisp here, spraying salt water on her face. She had spent the better half of twelve years trying to forget, burying the memories so far inside herself that she couldn't even remember what her mother's voice sounded like. Even her face was blurry. And that, the fact that Hal had allowed herself to forget even the smallest of details, was just as painful as remembering what she could in the first place. She could remember names, events, and conversations here and there. But she forgot her father's laugh, forgot if her sister had liked lilacs or daises the best. Such minor details, but she had committed them to heart so long ago.

She closed her eyes, too exhausted to keep crying. Instead she thought of the Tenari to try and remember what joy felt like. All the things she had learned as a woman, she had not the privilege to learn from her mother. Instead, Tena had sat her down and explained to her what a monthly bleeding was when it came to Hal at thirteen — and bless him, Denu had given her Nani as a present, citing that she had come so far, and having so much further to go, could use a faster pair of legs. It was Mai and Sarah who had explained the woes and pleasures of sex and marriage — and rather explicitly at that. It was Sam who had taught her to use her hands to defend herself, Ayo who had taught her to find peace of mind, Cado and Eli who made her laugh for the first time since she had come to Illium. And it was Amon who had been there to wake her up from her nightmares. Every. Single. One.

So much. They had all given her so much, and she had yet to give them anything in return. No matter what she did, it never felt like enough. Nothing was enough to repay the villagers for taking in a broken, little orphan girl and making her one of their own, like it was the most natural and normal thing in the world. And now there was an evil presence on her island. The only home she'd had after the other one had been violently taken from her. She had fought for this. Bled and cried for this. She had been loved and cared for at her absolute lowest, her absolute worst, and had learned to love and care for those same people in return.

And she'd be damned if she lost them too.

Hal recalled the magic she had felt coursing through her twelve years ago and, again, a few days ago. It was untamed and wild. Dangerous. She had lost so much because of it. She had lost everything.

 _You treat your magic like you're scared of it, Halen._

There was no doubt in her mind that he had been right. She was scared of it. Terrified. But she didn't want to live with this fear anymore. She knew it would consume her otherwise. And if she let it consume her, what was the point of living the life her parents had sacrificed theirs for? Even Murtagh had given it his all so that she may live.

She had found the Tenari, and found hope that perhaps a broken little girl could salvage what remained of herself to build a new life. And she had. She could not save her people. She could not save her family. But she would save the Tenari. And in order to do that, she had to get back to her village immediately, and pray the dragon rider was still there by the time she got back.

…

She imagined she must look half mad as she emerged from the woods. Her breathing was shallow, her side cramping as she slowed her run to a brisk walk. She was covered in sweat, sand, and dirt that her bloodied feet had kicked up, splattering and staining the white nightgown she still wore. She had minor cuts on her arms, legs, and neck from branches, areas she usually covered when she was out in the woods. Her hair was probably wild since she had nothing to put it up with, sticking to her forehead and neck in a manner that made her feel grotesque. She had hoped to avoid being spotted, but nothing seemed to be going her way lately.

"Halen, where the bloody hell have you been? Why in the heavens are you so filthy? Are you still wearing your nightgown?!"

Tena's voice seemed to hitch into higher territory as each question warranted a new level of disbelief and shock. Hal stopped moving, turning her head to face the woman who carried a fresh load of laundry in her arms. Tena blinked, waiting for a response when her brows suddenly furrowed. "Is everything okay, love?"

Hal strode towards her and threw her arms around the woman, ignoring the fact that she was dirty and sweaty. Tena was baffled, attempting to maintain her grip on her basket as she asked, "You never hug me unless something's wrong. Is something wrong or are you still drunk from last night?"

Hal shook her head, pulling away from the woman so that she could look at her properly. Deep brown eyes, lined with wrinkles and concern. Her hair that wasn't tucked underneath her scarf was beginning to turn grey around her temples. Tena moved her hand, cupping one of Hal's cheeks. "More than ten years later and I still can't tell what you're thinking," the woman murmured. "But you're planning something, aren't you?"

"You think me so nefarious?" Hal teased.

"I think you have been skittish and quiet since you and the men have returned to the village." Hal's smile fell. "You think I don't see those scars on your hands and know they weren't there before you left? I assume the Dragon Rider healed them, of course."

Hal nodded solemnly. Of course, Tena had noticed. She grew worried others had noticed as well. Unlike her other scars, Hal couldn't really hide these unless she stuck her hand in mud every time she went out.

Tena breathed. "Well if it were my business, you would've told me by now. Heaven knows you hate when I meddle. So long as you came home, that's all that matters."

Hal's expression softened. "How do you do it, Tena? Put up with someone like me, even after how horribly I treated you."

Tena blinked in surprise. "I've never 'put up' with you, Halen. I _love_ you. And you were a child; everyone could see you were hurting. We would have to be monsters to hold that over you."

"But what about now?"

Tena lowered her hand, walking so that Hal may follow. "I know you prefer someone's honesty, so I will not lie. You can be difficult, Halen. Just as _everyone_ can be difficult. But oftentimes, it's easier to see that your efforts stem from a place of compassion and concern for others. There are not many people who could do what you have done." Tena glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "Would this have anything to do with why the Dragon Rider looked so upset this morning?"

Hal felt hope bloom in her chest. "He's still here?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't he be?"

Hal nervously licked her lips, dropping her gaze. "The rider's feelings are his own. But I admit he… _I_ said things yesterday that I shouldn't have to him, out of anger. I thought he might have left because of how I treated him. Honestly, I don't even think I would have blamed him if he had."

"I see."

"Actually, where is he? I need to speak with him."

"Now?" Tena looked her over with unflinching skepticism.

"Aye, now." Before she lost her nerve.

Tena made a face, but turned back towards the direction they had come from. Murtagh was with Amon and a group of men, Ayo, Sam, and Cado included, working on the hut. Half were stomping mud, water, and straw in a pit that would be then be poured into wood molds to make the bricks. Amon and his team were chopping the wood that would help build part of the structure that made the houses more durable. Everyone was sweating, but in surprisingly high spirits.

Except Murtagh.

He was standing off to the side, working on his own. The swing of his arms as he brought the axe down, clearing the branches from the tree trunk, were labored and sluggish. His strength, she knew, would take some time to return to him. But his face was red with determination, his jaw tight, and eyes intense with focus and frustration.

Hal saw how angry he seemed and turned on her heel, but Tena grabbed her arm. "Not so fast. You can endanger your life like it's nothing but you can't talk to that young man?"

"He's busy," Hal grumbled. Tina raised a brow. "I don't want to bother him."

"Tough. Whatever you need to say to him, say it, and be done with it. How he receives it is not up to you. But own your mistakes, love. You're going to make them eventually, and you're going to make a lot of them."

"I hate it when you lecture me," Hal glowered.

"You always did. And you know what else? You, the rider, and Denu will join us for dinner tonight. No excuses. Be there, and do be sure to bathe beforehand." Tena gave her a stern onceover. "You smell."

Hal rolled her eyes to show her compliance, taking long strides towards the rider. As she got closer, her appearance became a quick distraction, men stopping their work to gawk at how crazy she must appear to them.

"You get into a fight with a tree, love?" Amon asked, following her quick movements with curiosity as she bypassed him.

She flipped him off, hearing his laughter follow her as she moved to stand by the rider, making sure to keep her distance from his swing.

"Can I talk to you?"

He paused, but didn't look up to face her. "I'm not in the mood to be insulted. Perhaps after lunch." He grunted, bringing the axe down on a particularly thick branch, several of his cuts having loosened it some, but there were still some ways to go.

Hal licked her lips, biting back her knee-jerk reaction to tell him off and call him a kitten. But she knew she had gone too far, and was smart enough to now keep her mouth shut. She could feel eyes on them as she stood there, at a loss for what to say or do. She realized she did not often seek forgiveness for her actions, she did as she saw fit, everyone else be damned. But Murtagh did not know her as the villagers did, and despite Tena's comments, Hal was not a child. Her actions were not so easily excusable now. And if she felt such shame to have said what she did, she couldn't imagine how it must've felt to hear it.

She doubted an apology would be enough, but it was the only place she knew to start. "Fine, then just listen," she said, speaking loudly enough that he could hear over the hacking of the wood, but not so loud that others could easily eavesdrop. She stepped closer. He paused briefly, his eyes catching her appearance and likely noting that she looked ridiculous. Then he continued as if nothing had happened.

Her throat was dry, and she felt panicked, unsure of how to proceed. She glanced to her left where the others were watching. The men she wasn't close with quickly returned to their chores when they realized they had been caught, but Amon, Ayo, Cado, and Sam showed little inclination of looking away, eyes wide with expectation and curiosity. Cado even gestured his head towards the rider, trying to urge her forward.

She sneered at him in irritation, but she was secretly grateful to her friends for their support. She turned towards the rider, steeling her resolve. Heavens, this was painful. She had faced worse, and had come out the other side alive. Not unscathed, but alive. It was a start, and that was all she needed. Her feelings towards Murtagh were still difficult to sort through. They had been through a lot in such a short amount of time that she didn't know where this left them. But she felt connected to him, indebted, ever since she had heard his voice, urging her towards him, away from death.

 _To me, Halen_.

She took a deep breath and stepped close. So close that he stopped mid-swing, so there was nothing to distract him from what she said next.

"The soldier I killed was one of many who had come to occupy my village at the time. I don't know why. They claimed they were looking for Varden spies, but said as long as we cooperated, there would be no trouble. So, we cooperated, for we had no Varden spies."

Murtagh slowly lowered the axe to his side.

"But this…particular solider had been causing trouble for many of us. Rowdy, rude, and…dangerously aggressive." She licked her lips. "One day, he saw me in the woods and approached me. Tried to lure me further in, claiming he was lost and needed help getting back to our village, even though we weren't even half a mile out. He frightened me and I refused, so he got angry. He grabbed me, tried to drag me instead."

She swallowed the bile in her throat.

"My mother, who had been close by, found us. Not wanting to endanger me, she quietly diffused the situation to keep the man from getting any more belligerent. She told me to return to the village, and I almost did. But when I looked back…he was leading her into the woods instead. I waited, unsure if they would return or not. When they didn't, I followed after them. I knew I wasn't supposed to. And sometimes…I wish I never had."

Murtagh wouldn't look at her, his face pale. His jaw was tightly clenched, nostrils flaring in barely-hidden anger. And his eyes…there was rage and there was grief. But he was listening. And Hal forced herself to finish.

"When I finally found them…" Her eyes burned, wishing she didn't have to see. Didn't have to hear the vulgar grunts as the soldier forced himself on her mother, taking her from behind like she was some kind of animal. Pushing her face into the ground like she was nothing. And the thought that this was almost Hal's fate had her mother not intervened when she had…

But none of that was as awful as seeing the shame in her mother's eyes when she realized Hal was there. That Hal had seen. To see her mother's face twisted in pain, the tears in her eyes, as she sacrificed her dignity so that Hal may not lose her innocence.

"My hand twitched," Hal whispered, tears running down her cheeks, her voice haunting. "Like a spasm had run through it. Next thing I know, his head is facing the wrong direction and I'm blacking out."

There was a tense silence as Hal sniffed, moving to wipe her cheeks. But she stopped when Murtagh turned to face her, tears of his own falling silently. He raised his hand, hesitating, doubting. When Hal said nothing, too interested to see what he planned to do, he stepped closer, moving to wipe her tears himself. Her eyes went wide with surprise, but she didn't stop him. His thumb ran across her cheek, just under her eye, and such a simple gesture of kindness caused her face to twist in agony. She lowered her head to hide her face, covering her mouth with her hand as she choked on her sobs.

"Your mother is the kind of parent every child deserves, and too few are fortunate enough to have." Hal gasped, the weight and truth of his words breaking her heart. Because Hal had always known this. But to hear someone else acknowledge it almost felt like giving her mother's sacrifice meaning. And Hal missed her all over again. "I am so sorry you have had to endure all this time without her." Hal nodded, more tears falling. "You must think me such an ass."

"No," Hal said quickly, her voice cracking. "No, _I_ was the ass. And I'm so sorry for what I said to you when you were only trying to comfort me. You were right. If I am to learn magic, I can't be afraid of it. And I've been afraid of it for _so long_ because of what I did. I've been lying to myself for twelve years. But if I am to protect this village, then I must stand in my truth. I must own it and…accept it for what it is." She looked up at him, holding his gaze. His grey eyes were unwavering, and she found comfort in them. Strength. She shrugged her shoulders, her tears falling faster now. "It's just me. And that guilt…I don't think it will ever leave me. But I'm tired of feeling afraid and weak, looking over my shoulder and sleeping with knives under my pillows for soldiers to appear. This is my home now and I will protect it. But I would much rather do it with your help. If you're willing and able." And not still mad at her, she wanted to say, but she didn't want to appear so pitiful.

Murtagh's smile was kind. "I was wrong to reject you. And you were right, I was being selfish —"

"I never should have said —"

"No…no, I'm glad you did. Because I needed to hear it. You need to stand in your truth, and this is me standing in mine." His brows furrowed a bit, as if the weight of it all was too much. "There is not much I am proud of in my life. Except for Thorn, of course. And I have been selfish and arrogant. It's so engrained in me that, in order to survive, I must put myself above all others. Thorn, above all others." He looked down at her, his expression one of disbelief, as if he couldn't quite believe that he was seeing her at all. "And before me stands a woman so selfless, she hides her pain for the sake of others. Who races into danger if she thinks it may keep her people safe. Who asks a stranger with a past like mine to help her conquer her fears."

Hal's face was hot, but she could not hide how humbled she was at his words. At the slight awe in his voice. And she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I will help you, Halen. It won't be easy, mind you, for either of us. It has been a while for me, and I am…my strength will not be what it was when I served Galbatorix, although that is, I know, for the best." She wasn't sure if he seemed convinced or not of this, but she decided not to question it. "But I can teach you the Ancient Language, while I build up my strength. Then we can move to magic. Although, to be honest, it would probably do you some good to learn swordsmanship too. You're proficient in self-defense, and you're exceptional with a bow. There's nothing wrong with learning another skill, and it'll help you build your strength, make sure your body is strong enough to handle the actual magic lessons —"

Hal couldn't help herself. Relief mingled with thankfulness at his ramblings made her forget herself for just a moment. She threw her arms around his neck, cutting him off mid-sentence as she hugged him. They were both sweaty and disgusting, but she didn't care. She couldn't find another way to express how grateful she felt. And she almost cried again. Not just that he had agreed to help, but just…to him. For his kind words and for understanding. She sniffed, holding him tightly, and he relaxed, slowly wrapping his arms around her as well.

"Whatever is going on, we'll figure it out together," he whispered into her hair. "Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

…

Although Halen insisted on walking back to the hut herself, Murtagh took one look at the state she was in and guilt made him adamant on accompanying her. Amon gave him a silent nod of approval and appreciation as they left, confirming that regardless of her stubbornness, he had made the right choice. He hoped, in due time, he would get better at making those.

They walked slowly, the sight of her bloodied prints making his throat tight. And despite her limp, Halen looked surprisingly…he shook his head, still unable to comprehend her strength. Her face was set with determination. Even a bit of nervous excitement at the prospect of learning magic. And she hardly seemed to notice the cuts on her body.

She walked towards the river behind her hut, easing herself down to the ground. She flinched as she stuck her feet in the water, but her face soon relaxed at the passing of the initial sting. They didn't speak, but Murtagh did not want to rush her just yet. His own mind was still reeling from her revelation, and the truth brought a pain and fury all its own.

But he attended to Halen as best he could, who asked him to run a bath for her. He followed her instructions on how to fill the tub and heat the water, fetching her when it was ready. He hadn't wanted the oils to disturb her cuts, even though they were minor, and had left them out. She looked grateful at his thoughtfulness when he told her.

Murtagh felt like a lost puppy waiting outside the bathroom door, listening as he heard the water splash as she lowered herself into the basin, sighing. But he didn't feel like he could leave just yet. He turned so his back was to the door, unsure of what to do with himself.

"A question for a question," Halen said suddenly. He was steadily becoming less surprised that she was so aware of his presence. Denu was exceptional at it, so it only made sense Halen would pick up on such things.

Murtagh slid until he was sitting on the floor. When he didn't flat out refuse her, Hal proceeded with careful caution. "Did you know your mother?"

He sighed. "Not as well I would have liked. I was separated from her not long after I was born and raised independently. I never really saw her much before she died when I was still small. She came to see me when she could, but I have long since accepted the fact that she did not love me like she loved Eragon."

He could hear the water move about and imagined Halen sitting up in surprise. "Wait, what?"

His smile was barely-there, but it was due more to her reaction than anything. "Aye. We are half-brothers. His father was another dragon rider, named Brom."

"My heavens. What are the odds?"

He read the proceeding silence well and grinned. "Dare I ask my question or are you bursting at the seams with more of your own?"

"I honestly have so many I don't know where to start. I should really carry a quill and paper in here with me — I do some of my best thinking in the bath. But I will politely bombard you later."

Murtagh chuckled at that. When he quieted down, he could feel her own sense of ease resonating as well. "Where did you go last night? After I left?"

"To the beach. I love the woods, but I sometimes think better in the open space. I feel less…trapped."

There was something about the way she said that word. And then he thought of the cave, of the Ra'zac, and decided to change the subject. "Are the beaches nice here?"

"You did not go when you arrived?"

"When I arrived, I was attacked by the Nïdhwal," he said grimly. Much as he hated to admit it, but even if he and Thorn hadn't endured the attack from the sea serpent, scenery was hardly something Murtagh was taking in.

"Goodness, rider, you have as profound bad luck as I do." Her deadpanned sense of humor made him smile again. "We must remedy that at some point. The beaches here are perhaps the island's best feature. I don't know about the mainland, but the sand is white, almost opalescent in the sun. And the water is not quite blue, but turquoise, sparkling in the light. And the sky is so…wide and open, it will take your breath away. I feel as though anything is possible, like I'm standing at the great beyond. I feel as though everything will be okay."

Murtagh closed his eyes, her words conjuring an image in his mind. There was such wonder and awe in her voice as she spoke, which amazed him. He was sure she had been to the beach plenty of times, and yet to still feel such astonishment at the mere thought of it. He envied her.

"Are we on your question now or mine?" she asked.

"Yours."

She sighed. "Am I the child Eragon was dreaming about? Give or take a few years, it would seem."

Murtagh should've expected she would be smart enough to figure it out on her own. "Aye, I believe so."

"I supposed I should've known immediately. If I had paid more attention, the features do match me when I was ten." She paused. "Is Eragon handsome?"

Murtagh made a face, surprised by how annoyed he was at the question. "Excuse me?"

"If a man I have never met is going to be dreaming about me, I'd like to think he was at least handsome."

"He's ugly."

She snorted. "I doubt that if he's your brother."

It was obvious she had not meant to say such words aloud, or perhaps had not realized how they would sound, and he flushed pink, rather pleased, as she groaned audibly, the noise becoming nothing but bubbles. He imagined her ducking her head underwater, and he laughed.

After a while, he calmed down long enough to ask, "Are you still alive in there?"

"Leave me to drown, rider."

"And let the only person to tell me such nice things cease to exist? Absolutely not. I should keep you around longer for whenever I'm feeling vulnerable or downtrodden."

"Careful now, I am just as soon to insult you as I am to compliment you. Stick with me at your own risk."

He smiled, not wanting to tease her too much just yet and make her uncomfortable or accidentally say the wrong thing. He must've been quiet much longer than he thought because she suddenly called out to him, as if suddenly anxious.

"Murtagh?"

He could hear her hesitancy, as if she herself disliked how afraid she sounded at the thought of being on her own.

"I'm here, Halen."

She didn't speak at first, and they both sat there, ruminating in silence. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

She took longer to respond, which meant she was choosing her words carefully. He waited patiently, and it sat up in surprise when he realized she was crying.

"Halen —!"

"I'm fine," she said quickly. He heard her curse softly, as if frustrated. She didn't sound convincing, and it took him a moment to realize he was gripping the door knob, unsure of what exactly he planned on doing once he opened the door except be throttled by Halen for invading her privacy so forcefully. But the thought of her alone and crying after what she had told him pained him more.

"I just…I'm a little overwhelmed, is all. And I haven't…I wish my family was here. And I'm scared, and I'm tired, and tired of being scared."

He wished there was more he could do for her. Some words of wisdom or gesture of hope that would put her heart and mind at ease. But all he could think about was how she sounded like a scared child. It was easy to see why though.

"Tell me what you want me to say," he offered her gently. "Tell me whatever it is you need to hear to get through this and I'll say it."

"There's nothing you need to say," she admitted. "Just…stay, a little while longer?"

He agreed, and they volleyed less heavier questions back and forth until Halen finally opened the door, Murtagh falling back and scrambling to sit up as she chuckled. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking."

He noticed she had bandaged and wrapped the soles of her feet already as he climbed to his. She smiled at him bashfully, and his cheeks felt rather hot at the look. "Thank you," she said in a low voice. "For keeping me company."

"I was happy to," he said, and was only slightly surprised to realize how sincere he was. "Your injuries —" he began.

"Are minor, at worst," she said, cutting him off with a sharp look. "You will not worry about such insignificant cuts. They'll heal and they won't even scar."

He still felt an ounce of guilt, however, knowing that she had taken off because he had been so crass with his words. He had opened such wounds, put her in such a state of despair…

Halen shook her head as if reading his thoughts. "I will use that pain to fuel me now. I could not save my mother, but I will save this village with everything that I have, including my magic. And if confronting those demons is the only way to do it, then I'm glad it happened now and not before I was too late. If I'm not already."

Murtagh nodded, feeling a multitude of emotions at once. He swallowed, unsure of himself. "Does anyone know? About your mother?"

She looked at him. "Only one. At least now, anyway."

* * *

 **For those who chose to skip for their own level of comfort: Hal reveals to Murtagh that the first time she used magic was when she witnessed a soldier of Galbatorix hurting her mother, and she reacted in self-defense and accidentally killed him.**


	23. Chapter 23: Mind Over Matter

Murtagh felt his heart stop as a scream violently yanked him out of sleep. Confused he nearly fell out of his cot until he realized it was Halen. He stumbled to the door, grabbing his hand-and-a-half sword as he began to wake up, panicked and fearing the worst.

Denu was right on his heels as they burst into Halen's room. Murtagh froze in surprise, but Denu, apparently more familiar with her nightmares, passed him. "Help me hold her down."

Murtagh blinked, still trying to process the lack of danger. Denu firmly coaxed him into action however, and Murtagh propped his sword against the wall before doing as instructed. Denu told Murtagh where to pin her arms and legs, offering a not-so-subtle warning as he did so. "Brace yourself. Until she wakes up, she will fight even harder against you."

And fight him she did. Whatever she was seeing, whatever she was remembering, it terrified her. Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes and into her hairline, whimpers of pain and fear leaving a haunting impression in his memory. She screamed again, crying as if she were being tortured by the Ra'zac once more. He felt queasy.

Holding her down was exhausting. She bucked and thrashed underneath him as Denu stroked her hair back from where it stuck to the beads of sweat on her forehead. In fact, her gown seemed to cling to her, and Murtagh realized she was covered in sweat. He frowned, listening to Denu talk about riding through the forest, describing scenery he never should've been able to see in vivid detail. It sounded rehearsed and strangely familiar, and Murtagh remembered waking up to Halen telling him a similar story when he suffered from his own fit.

It felt like ages before Halen began to grow still, her attacks fading into spasms which, in turn, faded into shivers. The crease between her brows began to lift as her body weakened. Denu moved, reaching blindly, quite literally, behind her cot and pulling a wastebasket to the side of the bed. Murtagh only had a moment to register what it was for and jumped off Halen so that she would be able to move.

When her eyes finally opened, they were distant, frightened. And then her body lurched forward and she rolled onto her side, heaving the contents of her dinner into the bin. Murtagh grimaced at the sight, empathetic, as Denu slowly rubbed her back, talking to her in a low voice. Halen was crying quietly, and she spit when she was finished before lying back on her side. She looked exhausted, weary. Murtagh watched as her hands, which had been destroyed by the Ra'zac, trembled worse than any other part of her, and she squeezed them together tightly. Only then did she notice he was even standing there, and when she saw where his eyes were, she tucked her arms underneath her as if to hide them from view.

"I'm okay," she groaned, looking and sounding anything but. "I'm okay, I just…"

Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut against an onslaught of emotions. Murtagh forced himself to look away as Denu sat beside her and pulled her head into his lap. Halen cried freely, and they both seemed to forget he was even there. He didn't know what to do, almost nervous to move in case that made his presence more known than it already was.

So, he stayed, keeping close to the door but standing just outside of her room so they had a bit of privacy. It was almost another hour before her sobs began to quiet, and when he finally looked in, she had fallen asleep.

She looked almost like a child, curled up with her head in Denu's lap. So…small. He felt horrible, knowing that part of her nightmares stemmed from the Ra'zac. The way she had been clutching her hands, as if they pained her. But he also could not help but wonder if speaking of her mother and what she had witnessed had instigated these violent dreams. And he felt his stomach roll with guilt yet again.

Murtagh watched Denu closely as well. The old man looked tired, not in body, but in mind and heart. And Murtagh could imagine dozens — no, hundreds — of nights like this. Denu just holding Halen until she fell asleep, staying awake to make sure she felt safe despite the demons that lurked where he could not protect her. Murtagh knew what it was like to watch someone you love suffer and feel nothing but helplessness. But these nightmares felt cruel to both Halen and Denu. No one had protected Halen then. No one could protect her now. And everyone felt weaker for it.

"You do not have to stay any longer, Murtagh," Denu said, looking at him but seeing nothing. "Please, get some rest."

There was something politely dismissive in the man's tone. And Murtagh knew he was seeking privacy for Halen's sake. If she must suffer, let it be away from unfamiliar eyes. That was fair. And Murtagh felt more than useless just standing there anyway now that she was asleep again.

Lying back down in his cot, Murtagh suddenly felt haunted by his own memories. Memories of what had been done to him and what he had then done to others. A perpetuated cycle of hatred that he had not been capable of stopping. At least not on his own.

 _Then let us start anew_ , Thorn said gently. _Let us teach the woman to wield her fear against her enemies rather than herself._

 _I don't think it will be that simple. The kind of torture she had to endure before we arrived…she is not a warrior or soldier like we were. And look how long it took us to even speak of what was done to us. This on top of whatever hell she has already survived. No, we will have to find another way._

Thorn sat in silence, thinking carefully for a moment. _I haven't the faintest idea._

Murtagh snorted. _Nor do I._

The next morning, breakfast was as stiff and uncomfortable as he had expected it to be. Denu was pleasant enough, but his gaze continuously strayed to Halen, who was melancholic and silent. She looked exhausted, her eyes red and her lids puffy from when she had cried. Her complexion seemed waxy and she barely touched her food.

Murtagh almost hesitated bringing up her lessons. He swallowed, finding her in the kitchen as she set dishes aside to be washed. Her back was to him as he approached, but she did not jump when he cleared his throat. Regardless of her state of mind, her senses were still sharp as ever.

"I thought perhaps we could start your lessons tonight," he said, jumping straight to the point. "Nothing too strenuous. Perhaps an overview of the language and a brief history of magic itself."

It seemed so boring, but it was the best he could do. And he knew she had to start somewhere. Halen did not stop working, and she was silent for so long he thought either she hadn't heard, was ignoring him, or was trying to find a way out of the lessons altogether.

"Is it okay if I take notes?"

Her voice was soft, filled with a despair that hung between them. Murtagh nodded. "Yes. I'd encourage it, actually."

She breathed. "We'll wait a few minutes after Denu goes to bed then. He's usually a pretty heavy sleeper so long as we keep quiet."

And that was that.

Murtagh felt that it had gone better than expected, and turned to leave when she suddenly called out to him. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to find her gaze riveted on him. His shoulders went slack as he took in the sight before him, her shoulders squared, her spine straight, and chin tilted out. He wanted to assure her that she had no reason to put on airs in front of him, then realized that perhaps it was more for her own well-being.

"Thank you," she said, her voice much more even-toned. "For assisting Denu last night. And for…being there. I apologize for disturbing you."

She dropped her gaze quickly, like she had exerted all of her energy into it and couldn't withstand it any longer. He was going to tell her she had nothing to be sorry for. In fact, was that not exactly what she had told him after coaxing him out of his own nightmare? But she turned away from him, continuing her chores as if he wasn't even there. And Murtagh could not find it in him to speak to her back.

…

Time would be of the essence: Murtagh would need to fit in her training as well as figure out if there were any more Ra'zac sneaking around, all the while helping to rebuild Amon's hut. While he couldn't train her every day, they decided on a schedule that worked for them both, giving her time to practice her lessons before she saw him next. And although they were both occupied during the daytime, their evenings and nights were still free.

At first, things were uncomfortable for the both of them. Murtagh still felt unsure of how to behave around her, no doubt still pressed for her wellbeing. And Hal was still self-conscious and reeling from her nightmare. She was ashamed, so she went the extra mile in being patient with him while he attempted to figure out his lessons.

He was clearly unaccustomed to teaching. The first few nights were confusing and, admittedly, frustrating as he began one part of his lesson, realized there was preluding information she needed to know, and then backtracked quickly to fill in the details. Hal, however, found his frustration rather endearing, but knew better than to tell him that. But he soon found a starting place that worked for them both. Hal suspected Thorn may have had a hand in it.

Soon, their lessons just became a regular part of their day. As soon as Denu went to sleep, they would give him a few more minutes to make sure he didn't wake up, forgetting something. Afterwards, huddled together at the table in Murtagh's temporary room, Hal would pull out her notes from the previous lesson and they would begin again from where they had left off last.

Studying the Ancient Language by flame with Murtagh and Thorn became something Hal actually began to look forward to. It was a gradual shift, requiring time to get past her initial impatience at the slower pace and her desire to, shamefully, master the lessons as quickly as possible, if only to prove she could. For she still couldn't shake the feeling that she would fail and only make matters worse for herself and the villagers. But Murtagh, perhaps to overcompensate for her lack of confidence, maintained faith in her. And despite the why of it all, she couldn't help but appreciate it. Not to mention it had been a while since she had something new to learn, and it was nice to have an actual teacher rather than learning it herself.

Barely three weeks in and Hal had an itch of a question she had been longing to scratch. Murtagh was talking, leaning over her work from the night before and pointing out a few of her mistakes. But Hal couldn't focus.

"What was he like? Galbatorix, when he was teaching you — what was he like?"

She realized after she spoke that she should've probably given him some kind of indication that she was going to drop such a heavy question on him. He froze, refusing to turn and look at her. She had a feeling that the answer was that he was terrible, but she wanted to hear him say it.

"Why ask?"

His tone was hard, and Hal relaxed her stance a bit. She had to remind herself that, just like her, he didn't freely hand out information about his past. She never meant to make him uncomfortable. She just…

"I want to understand you better," she admitted. "And if we're being honest here, Galbatorix was powerful, right? While it can't be…ideal to have had him as a teacher, I guess I couldn't help but wonder. That's all."

He straightened up, his face impassive. Hal watched him quietly, her head unconsciously tilting to the side as she studied the man before her. Eventually, Murtagh finally put his chin in his hand, resting his elbow on the table.

"The lessons were brutal, often back-breaking…"

Whenever Murtagh spoke of his past, even just for a moment, his entire demeanor shifted. It was often one of the few times he seemed truly unguarded. It's hard to have a wall up when talking about something that leaves you feeling so vulnerable. But she, admittedly, liked this Murtagh. The one with the sagging, broad shoulders instead of stiff and uptight. The Murtagh whose voice was hauntingly deep, a slow rumble as he recalled even the smallest of details, proving he missed very little. But his eyes pulled it all together. There were so many emotions in him, and his eyes hid nothing. Pain, sadness, humility, desperation, and love when he spoke of Thorn. He was like a completely different person. A completely different man.

Hal would occasionally ask questions, but mainly, she just wanted to sit back and listen. It was troubling, to hear of how he and Thorn were often tortured and tested by Galbatorix. Part of her regretted asking, making him speak of what had to be painful memories. Especially considering he never pushed Hal to talk of her past in such detail after she had revealed what she had. And she didn't. But when he was done, he let out a slow breath and looked at her. There was a teasing gleam in his eyes and Hal rolled back in surprise.

"Don't think you're getting out of conjugating these verbs that easily."

"Dammit. How did you know?"

He smiled, seeming much more at ease than before, and she smiled back. They returned to her work as if his story had never happened. But little by little, they developed an easygoing banter that mirrored what they had had before the Ra'zac had taken her. They were still distant. Cordial. But it lessened the tension and made the proximity somewhat more bearable in nature. Not quite friends, but not strangers anymore either. But there were some moments when Hal wished Murtagh had never stayed, that she had never asked to spend more time with him by asking for him to train her. Perhaps, if she hadn't, she wouldn't have to worry about whether or not she was getting too close. Too attached.

Not that it mattered. He would be gone in a few months.

…

"No."

"Halen."

"No, I refuse."

"You said you wanted my help."

"Yes, but I didn't realize you meant _this_. How could you ask such a thing of me?"

"You know I won't hurt you —"

"That's not the point! The point is I didn't like you in my mind the first time and now you think I'm just going to let you waltz back in?!"

"I told you, I'm not intentionally trying to invade your mind. I'm teaching you to shield it, and yes, while you're learning, I will be able to see —"

"Absolutely not."

Murtagh huffed irritably, staring at a disgruntled Halen with annoyance. He knew it wasn't ideal, but her resistance was infuriating.

 _I don't seem to recall a moment in your life when you wanted people wandering around in your head_ , Thorn said, lying down behind him in a moment of sheer laziness. The sun was especially high today, and the villagers had retired early from their work to avoid fainting spells and other heat-related illnesses. Halen and Murtagh had decided to take the extra time and snuck away to Hal's private spot in the woods. It was less than a mile or so from the village, but was nestled at the base of a wide, steep hill. There was a narrow opening in the side that she kept hidden with a "fence" of sticks tied together with twine and covered with vines.

"I feel honored," Murtagh had muttered dryly at the sight, noting her efforts to keep the place to herself.

"As you should," she'd responded. "And if you breathe a word of this place to anyone, I'll make you hard to find as well."

And after making sure to secure her faux cover back over the entryway, Murtagh moved to catch up with Hal who was nearing the other side. The tunnel was just big enough for them to crouch through, although Murtagh's shoulders were just broad enough that he would bump the sides more than Hal would. Fortunately, they weren't going very far, and the opening was a little bit wider on the opposite end.

There was a large bank of hard rock for them to walk on, big enough to hold Thorn, to practice fighting, and much more, without worry of anyone accidentally stumbling into their lessons. The spring was deep, the water quiet and calm here compared to the river that flowed through the island. And it was freshwater, so they could refill their flasks when necessary, especially during the hotter days. There were a few larger rocks, easy enough to jump from one to the other to reach the other side where part of the forest continued, providing plenty of shade and more a comfortable surface for them to sit, just like they were now.

 _It's not the same thing,_ Murtagh argued. _I want to help. I have no intention of straying anywhere in her thoughts._

 _Well try to be more understanding of her reservations. Especially considering the painful memories she has carefully guarded and kept to herself._

Murtagh flinched inwardly. That little detail had, unfortunately, slipped his mind.

 _Be. Patient_ , Thorn added with finality.

Murtagh sighed, ducking his head down to compose himself. "Halen, I know you don't like this, and neither do I. But I must teach you how to protect yourself, and there will be risks involved."

"But there are things I don't want you to see. Things I'm not ready to reveal." Murtagh kept his face neutral as Thorn responded with a smug _I told you so_. "Can you promise me you won't look?"

"As long as you don't think about them, then yes. You have more control than you think. You can pick and choose which memories I see. But I'm not trying to go through your thoughts, I want you to be able to stop me. That's the point of this exercise."

"If I do this…I can keep people from reading my mind, right?"

He tried not to smile at how simply she put things. "I hope so."

She let out a groan of frustration, dropping her head into her hands. "Fine. Tell me what to do."

She was nervous, that much was obvious. He treaded carefully, sitting her down against a tree before situating himself in front of her. "First, so that I don't see anything you don't want me to, I want you to focus on a memory. Any one at all. And then I want you to picture a wall around that memory."

"That's it?"

"Trust me, it's harder than it sounds."

"Of course it is."

He gave her a wry smile. "One last thing. The process of someone being in your mind is never…pleasant. I will make my efforts as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you."

She gave him a confused look, as if the warning was unnecessary and his efforts obvious. "I know you will," she assured him, as if the roles were somehow reversed and she was the one making sure he was comfortable.

As she sat there, attempting to get relaxed and situated, Murtagh felt something warm blossom in his chest at her words. Although they were still treading lightly around one another, he was pleased that she trusted him enough for this. He knew what he was asking of her was much, especially considering his own experiences.

"I'm ready."

"All right. Let's begin." She gripped her skirt tightly. "Remember, just focus on one memory you don't mind me seeing."

"I've got it."

He slid himself smoothly into her consciousness. He chuckled when he saw the memory she had chosen. It was the day she had rescued him from the Nïdhwal. But she hadn't been close to stopping him, and he removed himself despite his curiosity to see the events as they unfolded through her eyes.

She shivered, feeling his presence enter and exit her mind. "Outstanding. Even I'm amazed by how disappointing my defenses are."

He tried not to laugh at the sarcastic awe in her voice, but he did have to bite down on his lower lip to keep from smiling. "It's not meant to be easy. Trust me, it took me years to create a shield strong enough to keep others out. Only Galbatorix could break it and that's only after Thorn hatched for me, which he used to his advantage. After he discovered my true name my shields became meaningless to him anyway."

"I can't tell if you're trying to help or not-so-subtly bragging, rider."

He grinned.

"Let's go again," she said with a deep breath.

They must've spent hours alone in the woods, practicing. Halen would occasionally switch up the memory, just for them both to have something else to look at. Thorn would occasionally share his advice with Murtagh to give to her, but otherwise he remained a silent observer, napping lazily in the space behind them.

But no matter what they tried, she couldn't stop him. He had felt little to no resistance throughout their entire exercise. Halen was beyond exhausted, and he was afraid she was reaching her limit.

"Let's stop for today," he said standing. He held out his hand and she took it, unable to look him in the eyes, her disappointment obvious. He pulled her to her feet, but held her firmly by her shoulders when she tried to walk away. "It just takes time, Halen."

She was quiet on the walk back. Regardless of how she thought today went, Halen was undoubtedly smart. Murtagh found it endearing when he would catch her studying, trying to keep her notes secret from others. She would read if she could during her chores and more often than not, he would catch her mouthing the words of the Ancient Language she had learned so far, committing them to memory. He actually felt…proud. Not only was she taking her lessons seriously, but she took him seriously as her teacher.

She had no problems asking him questions, even challenging him on the theories of magic. More and more, they would get into debates, sometimes on topics that had nothing to do with the lesson — and half the time he could never remember how they had reached the subject to begin with — but the conversation was always stimulating and enjoyable, even when they disagreed. With his well-read background, he could usually enlighten her in details she would have no way of knowing, but Hal was always careful to process and understand before firing off either more questions or her own conclusion.

Their lessons became a continuation of the language, while also practicing shielding her mind more and more. And slowly but surely, he saw improvement in her comprehension and expected she would soon be ready for practical execution. It was also helpful for Murtagh's training as well, a reminder of the rules and what he himself had learned. Some things had been so engrained in his mind, that there were times that even he felt like he was learning them over again. Especially since his lessons had been rushed.

But his mind was not the only thing being pushed to its limits. Murtagh's body was steadily adjusting to the labor, the work no longer tiring him as it once did. His body felt stronger, growing more muscled and lean like it had been before Galbatorix's demise. His skin was tanned from the hours spent in the sun, no longer burning as easily as it grew accustomed to the heat. They were steadily making progress, the men able to move on to create the structure of the house laying down some of the bricks while others finished drying. It had taken weeks, Murtagh hadn't even been able to keep track after a while. But he was pleased, feeling accomplished as the villagers he worked with thanked him and Thorn constantly for their efforts and help.

Murtagh had hardly bothered to practice his sparring. He barely kept up with his magic. He had let himself become weak. But as Halen and the hut progressed, he felt more certain of himself and his abilities. And one day, during the day of rest while Hal practiced the Ancient Language, Murtagh interrupted her studies and asked, "Do you want to learn how to swordfight?"

Halen stared at him with a blank look, her mind processing what he had said. "Seriously? Right now?"

"Yes, right now." She watched him carefully as he found two decent branches and broke them off the tree. He used magic to shape them until they were smooth. He tossed one to Halen who caught it with ease, but she still seemed unsure.

"I don't know, rider."

He grew embarrassed at her hesitation, misinterpreting it for a lack of interest that clashed with what had been, moments before, eagerness on his part to teach her more of what he knew. "Oh. I thought, perhaps…"

"Don't get me wrong, I do want to learn!" she said quickly. "But you're just going to embarrass me."

"I'll go easy on you."

She gave him a pointed look. "That's _not_ comforting, you idiot."

But she got to her feet nonetheless. He walked her through the basics — how to grip the staff, where to place her feet, and find her balance. He mainly wanted to teach her defensive skills and techniques. She had a sharp eye and was quick on her feet, but it was obvious that she still lacked the proper training and confidence.

He disarmed her with ease. Repeatedly. And while he could see her embarrassment each time she lost her makeshift weapon, or was tripped up and landed on her back, her eyes grew the usual determination he had become accustomed to. Or perhaps she was just growing increasingly irritated and was eager to hit him back.

But with the extra physical exercise for Halen, he felt her defenses in shielding her mind grow stronger too. It still seemed to take more out of her then he thought it should, but whenever he commented on how weary she seemed, she brushed him off with a few quips and an easy-going smile that, each time he saw it, disarmed him more and more as he momentarily forgot himself. Only a few weeks after they had begun to spar, Murtagh tried to break into her mind. He couldn't, so he slowly began to increase his efforts. He was grinning with pride as Halen sat there like she always did, eyes closed and cross-legged. Focused.

"I'm going to increase my attack tenfold, Halen. Brace yourself and continue to try and keep me out."

He could see her throat bob nervously, but she nodded, keeping her eyes closed so as to keep her concentration. He could see the strain in her face as she fought him, her jaw tightly clenched, her eyes squeezed shut as her hands clutched the material of her skirt. He had a sudden, dizzying inclination to take her hand and let her know she would be fine, regardless of whether or not she succeeded today in keeping him out. Thankfully, the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. But her shields held true, and eventually he ceased his mental assault before he exhausted them both to the point that they could not make it back to the village.

"I can't do it. I can't get in."

Her face fell as she opened her eyes, her body sagging now that she could release her efforts. "What?" Her voice was breathless.

Murtagh was smiling from ear to ear. "You did it."

"I did it?"

"You did it!" he repeated, laughing as her disbelief transformed into pure excitement.

"I did it!" she shouted. "I did it!" And then she caught him completely by surprise: she unfurled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Murtagh grunted as she hit him harder than either of them had expected, almost knocking him over. But when she squeezed him tightly, he could not help but celebrate with her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Congratulations, Hal. I'm proud of you."

Her grip on him tightened and she made a low sound, like she was trying not to cry. Sure enough, she began to sniff incessantly, as if trying to keep her emotions in check. When she finally pulled back, Murtagh felt the physical loss of her against him and struggled to keep his face composed as Hal beamed at him. But whatever she was about to say died in her throat when their eyes met. She was close enough that Murtagh could see himself in her gaze. She was still, transfixed between his legs.

"I just realized you called me 'Hal'," she whispered, surprised.

He blinked. Had he? "I'm sorry. I can call you Halen. It must've just slipped out —"

"No," she said quickly. She gave him a shy smile. "You can call me 'Hal'."

He nodded, unsure as to why he felt like he had somehow earned this, but pleased, happy even, with this development. "Hal it is then."

She beamed then remembered she still had her arms around his neck. "Sorry," she whispered, moving back until she returned to her spot against the tree. "I got carried away."

"It's fine. Besides, I'm happy for you. You've worked hard for this."

She smiled again. Heavens, her smile made him feel as though he had given her the secret to everlasting life. It filled her face, lighting her eyes and putting him at such ease that he could get lost in it. "Thank you. But I couldn't have done this without you. I feel like…like I finally made a step towards reclaiming my life, you know?" He nodded and she gave him a softer smile. "You're an incredible teacher, rider."

He felt the tip of his ear redden, humbled by her words.

"Thank you, Hal."


	24. Chapter 24: Feverish and Faint

"Hal, are you sure that you're all right?"

Hal breathed tersely through her nose, trying to keep from snapping at the woman. "You keep asking, Tena, my answer has not changed."

"You do look a little sickly, love," Mai, an older woman, said thoughtfully, leaning forward to gaze into Hal's eyes, as if to uncover the truth.

"I'm just tired," Hal admitted dismissively. "That's all."

They were sitting in the shade, weaving baskets for the harvest while the children ran around and played in the shallow river. Hal was quietly grateful for the easy-going day they were having. But she was in no mood for conversation, which, unfortunately, was in short supply when she was with the three women currently present.

"O-ho, did you hear that," Sarah said suggestively. "Hal is _tired_."

The three women snickered and Hal lowered her basket, hating that she was taking the obvious bait. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Sarah said, suddenly tight-lipped.

"Of course, by 'nothing' she means that dragon rider you've been spending so much time with," Mai cackled.

Hal stared. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on," Mai said. "We've seen you two wondering off into the woods alone on our rest days, only to come back _hours_ later. Is he the reason you're so tired?" she suggested with a slight waggle of her brows.

Hal had never blushed so hard in her life. But her temper flared just enough, rearing its ugly head as she sought to defend herself. "Are you suggesting I've compromised my honor with a man I met a few months ago?"

The women all laughed again. "Relax, Hal, we're just teasing you," Sarah said lightly.

"Well it's not funny!" The women continued to laugh, having put up with her tempers for too long for it to be of any cause for concern now. Did anyone else in the village think such a thing? "You're all awful," Hal whispered, mortified beyond reason.

"Besides, we've been around long enough. We know what a pleasured woman looks like," Tena added with a wink.

"It is too hot for this conversation," Hal said sharply.

"If I was about forty years younger," Mai said. "Woo-wee!"

Hal swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. Because in technical terms, yes, Murtagh was the reason she was so tired. Ever since she had successfully blocked him from her mind, and even before then, Hal had been trying to increase her training and practices, anxious to improve even further. She studied deeper into the night, sometimes not realizing it was too late to go to bed until she could see the sun begin to rise. And while her night terrors were, at times, weaker, they still persisted. She hoped, by improving in her training, she could ease her mind into a less stressful state so that she may begin sleeping properly again. But if she managed to avoid them by not sleeping at all, she wasn't going to complain.

But then they had started using actual magic too, and it was not her favorite. He had started small, teaching her _stenr raisa_ until she lifted the wobbly pebble from his hand. Then they would carefully move on to bigger items. The practice taught her to focus the direction of her magic as well as understand how variables like size or distance depleted her strength, two things that she struggled with since it took so much out of her just to draw on it. She wasn't used to tapping into this magical part of her. She still had a hard time believing it actually existed at all.

The lessons were taking a slow toll on her, but she didn't want to complain. She knew she just needed to get stronger. Murtagh only had a month or so left, and she wanted to feel confident in her abilities before then.

And, if she were being honest with herself, a growing part of her was eager to hear him say, even if it was just once more, that he was proud of her. She couldn't comprehend why the words had meant so much to Hal, but they had.

When they were done, everyone rose to their feet at once. Hal moved too fast and her vision blurred frighteningly fast. She stumbled to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the dizziness to pass as she was suddenly ambushed by the others.

"Heavens child, are you all right?" Mai squeaked, shoving her canteen under Hal's nose. "Here, drink some water."

"I'm fine," Hal feigned, waving her hand to ease their minds. "Just the heat got to me, is all. I should've moved more carefully."

"All the more reason to drink up, love," Tena said, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Hal ignored her gaze and took the canteen gratefully, taking small sips.

"Are you sure you're all right, Hal," Sarah asked, rubbing her back gently. "We can take you to Mennes —"

"NO!" They blanched in surprise at her outburst and Hal flinched. If Mennes knew, he would tell Denu, who would tell everyone, including the rider. Hal had no desire to have her business put out for others to hear, and she certainly didn't want to risk having any of her lessons cancelled. They were too important. And even when she didn't like them, she still looked forward to them. "No," she repeated, her voice gentler. "I'm okay. There's no need to make a fuss."

They seemed unconvinced, but complied, which was fine with Hal. As they made their way back so they could get started on dinner, Hal unconsciously decided to walk with Tena to see how the hut was progressing. Amon was delighted to see his wife, coming over to kiss her sweetly on the lips. He embraced Hal, who protested loudly because the man was so disgustingly sweaty.

"How are you boys doing?" Tena asked. "Keeping cool I hope?"

"We have our next break in a bit. Hal, you should stay. Murtagh's been telling us about the dwarves!"

He was so giddy with it that Hal could not help but smile. "Perhaps another time," she said lightly, aware of Tena's eyes on her. And Tena's eyes missed very little when she was looking for information. "But take notes for me in the meantime."

Amon nodded agreeably. "Aye, will do."

Hal pretended to casually glance around while the husband and wife talked about their plans for dinner. Murtagh was laying bricks with Cado, chatting amicably. Eli, who had started coming out, offering what assistance he could, said something and the men laughed. Hal herself smiled at the obvious delight amongst the group, even though she had no idea what was being said. It was nice to see everyone so happy. Especially Murtagh. His face was red from his work, but impossibly redder as he threw his head back and laughed again, gripping his sides as if he could not contain himself. Her smile widened, her heart racing at the sight. She was happy for him. Hal had not come by the hut too often, but she realized how well Murtagh was getting along with the others, which was nice to see. It looked almost natural, like he had just melded right into the group.

Tena cleared her throat, snapping Hal to attention. When she saw the woman's teasing grin, Hal blushed and her smile fell. "Oh, shut it."

She stalked away. "What's that about?" she heard Amon ask.

"Nothing. She's just tired."

…

They were always unpredictable, her night terrors. Lately, they were minor enough that she could wake herself up, lying and listening to the silence. Imagining Denu, Murtagh, and Thorn snoring in their respective rooms and right outside. She was safe here. She was fine. And sometimes she would fall back asleep, other nights, she would use the opportunity to study and further her lessons.

But other nights…

When Hal woke up, she was alone. She must've managed to keep quiet this time. However, she was still covered in an unsightly amount of sweat, her nightgown and sheets clinging to her. The air felt rather stifling, although she didn't recall it feeling this warm when she went to bed. As she climbed out of bed, groaning at the thought of facing another sleepless night, the sheets trapped themselves around her legs, and she felt the room spin as she tried to stand. She hit the ground hard, swearing under her breath as her wrists absorbed most of the impact, reverberating up her arms.

She just stayed there for a moment, huddled into a heap on the floor of her room, waiting for the black spots to leave her vision. Hot. It was so hot. She eyed her washbasin in the corner of the room, then decided against it. She had a better idea.

Instead, she gathered herself to her feet, grabbed a clean nightgown and stumbled out of the hut. She felt uncoordinated, like she was drunk. But she was grateful that the river was a short walk away. The moon and stars shone brightly overhead, a peaceful silence long having swept over the village. Hal undressed, pulling her sweat-soaked gown over her head and dumping it on the ground to be washed later. The clean one she left on a rock near the water so it wouldn't accidentally get wet, along with her towel.

She waded in, the water a perfect, comfortable temperature. She was waist deep when she held her breath and dunked her whole head under. Then she opened her mouth and screamed. Then she rose up for air, took another breath, then pulled herself down to scream again.

When her throat was sore and she felt moderately better, having cooled off and let off a bit of steam, Hal climbed out. She dried off and dressed quickly, heading back to the hut. She paused, blinking, as Thorn paused, blinking, and stared right back. How long had he been awake? She tried to ignore his gaze, act like she hadn't seen him at all as she walked past.

 _It's a lovely night._

She stopped, her eyes wide with surprise as her head slowly turned to Thorn. For that melodic voice in her head could be nothing and no one else. And it was so breathtaking and surprising that she almost forgot herself.

"Aye," she said, her wet hair dripping down her back and shoulders.

He examined her slowly, silently. Although they had gotten along, he had never spoken with her directly. It was always through Murtagh or simple gestures that conveyed what he wanted or needed. And Hal had been fine with that. And it wasn't that she minded him speaking to her directly — any other time, she would have marveled at it. However, all she could think about what was he had seen.

 _Are you well, Halen-Murtagh's-friend? Should I fetch my rider?_

Hal vehemently shook her head. "No, please don't wake him. I want him and Denu to sleep for once."

Thorn eyed her again carefully. _All right then. And perhaps he would be embarrassed by my saying-so, but do know that my rider is concerned about you. He would not mind it if you needed to talk._

She did feel rather embarrassed, but even she had to bite her lip to hide her pleased smile. "I know. And he's been wonderful. I just…not right now."

 _I understand._

"Thank you."

 _You know, you don't have to voice your responses. You may think them and I will still hear them._

Hal frowned. "Is it — how do I do it?"

 _Just direct your thoughts towards me like you would your words and I will be able to hear them._

 _Like this?_ Silence. _Thorn, like this?_ The dragon just blinked at her, waiting. _Thorn!_

A low, scratchy sound erupted from somewhere in the back of his throat, and it took her a moment to realize he was laughing at her. _Yes, just like that. Apologies, I could not help but tease you a little._

And Hal smiled, shaking her head in wonderment. _You are as awful as your rider_ , she said in jest, taking a step towards him. There was a lull in the conversation, a comfortable silence as Hal listened to his large breaths, feeling a sense of ease in the presence of such a creature.

 _Are you not tired?_ Thorn asked.

Actually, she was exhausted. The effects of the water were already wearing off as the warm night began to dry her off. She could feel the heat returning to her skin, making her head thick and fuzzy. Yet she had no desire to sleep right now.

She shook her head to answer Thorn. _Unfortunately, no._

 _Would you like to sit out here with me for a bit?_

Her eyes grew a little. _You wouldn't mind?_

 _Not at all. And, I admit…I want to talk with the people of the village more, as Murtagh does._

 _I think they would be beside themselves with joy should you ever decide to do so. It has certainly made me very happy._

And it did. She felt like she had earned his trust, like he had opened himself up to her. She wasn't sure if that's what it was, but it was how it felt. She wobbled a bit as she went to sit down, leaning against his warm scales. She felt a flash of heat again and her skin prickled uncomfortably.

 _Thorn…could you tell me a story?_

 _A story? What kind of story?_

 _Anything. Absolutely anything. What was your first memory? Why did you select Murtagh as your rider? What do you see on your flights? Tell me everything!_

The dragon chuckled. _All right then. I will start from the beginning, as my earliest memories are from when I was still just an egg…_

Hal listen with rapt attention, curled up against his side with a slight contentment she had not felt in a while. And as he spoke, she began to see flashes of his memories. Nothing too personal, but she saw through his eyes the moment he beheld Murtagh for the first time, the joy and hope in his little body despite the disgust and fear he was met with by his rider. The rejection. Hal flinched, but Thorn pressed on like it was just a slight hiccup. And she could see why. Considering how he had frightened a village and Murtagh had nearly killed himself to heal his dragon, she knew how the story ended; therefore, there was no point in dwelling on it.

The touches of his memories as he spoke were awe-inspiring. They were beautiful and heart-wrenching, hopeful, and sweet. She began to cry quietly as she listened, gleaning more from Thorn in this one moment than she had the entire months he had been on the island. And she regretted it. Regretted not thinking of talking to him sooner.

Eventually, she curled up against him, his voice gentle in her head as she began to drift, her eyes growing heavy as the sky began to grow light. By the time she finally fell asleep, she was not remotely concerned about her dreams. For in her mind, there was no safer place to be than at a dragon's side.

…

Murtagh woke up groggy and disoriented, blinking in the sunlight that streamed into his room. Strange. He could normally hear Hal moving around by now, but it was still rather quiet in the hut. He stretched, scratching his bare chest as he rose to his feet. He paused. He had the faintest thought that Thorn had perhaps tried to wake him up in the middle of the night, but the dragon had quickly pulled away as though changing his mind. Murtagh decided to go out and see if he was fine, as it felt like the dragon was still sleeping.

However, as soon as he opened the front door, he almost ran right into Mennes, his hand poised to knock. He stepped back in surprise, and the old man looked quickly peeved to run into Murtagh of all people. "Dammit. You damn-near startled me."

Murtagh raised a brow, unsure what his response to that should be.

"Where's Halen?"

"Why?"

"Are you her keeper? I need to see her."

Murtagh thought it best not to point out the fact that Mennes had just asked him where she was. "Well I haven't seen her. If she's not here, she's probably out taking care of her chores."

Mennes sighed. "And how has she seemed to you? Irritable? Tired? Distracted?"

Now Murtagh was interested. "It's hard to say. You basically just described Hal herself." The old man's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. But Murtagh also knew that if the medicine man was asking, it was probably serious and he shouldn't jest. "Has something happened?"

"I won't know for sure until I see her for myself. Tena came to me saying Hal nearly fainted yesterday but brushed off their concern. That idiot is always hiding when she gets sick, making me chase after her. So, help me, if she's ill I'm boxing her ears."

Murtagh turned on his heel, stalking towards Hal's room. Mennes called out after him but Murtagh ignored him, the man's words stirring something in him. In his mind, he kept picturing how exhausted she had been. She had been moving slower, struggling as if everything was harder to do. And yet she never complained. She always said it was her nightmares, affecting her usual habits. Claimed it was the training, as her body adjusted to her use of magic and swordsmanship. But his mind kept ringing with one thing, a warning Amon had given him after they had returned from being hunted by the Ra'zac:

 _She'll keep all of her feelings locked up, what happened to her. She'll put on a pretty face so as not to worry the villagers...And then she'll collapse from the strain of it._

Dammit. Dammit all.

He knocked hard on her door as Denu emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes as he spoke to Mennes, inquiring as to what was going on. Huffing, Murtagh shouted, "Hal, I'm coming in!"

But he found out he was only addressing an empty room. She wasn't there, and he frowned, confused as to where she could've gone. Her bed was unkempt, so she was in it at _some_ point. Murtagh stormed past the two men who only followed him quietly. Murtagh could feel his temper flaring. If Mennes was right, if Hal had been lying to him, then Murtagh would box her ears himself.

Around the corner, Thorn felt his presence as he approached and opened one sleepy eye, yawning. _Good morning, young one._

 _Thorn, tell me, did you see Hal at all last —?_ "Hal?" He said aloud, surprised, as he got closer, to find her sleeping on the ground.

 _She could not sleep last night and wandered outside. We talked for a bit and she fell asleep here. I had not the heart to wake her; she didn't fall asleep until first light._

It was easy to see why. She had hardly gotten a peaceful sleep since her torture and the night terrors had started. And although they were fading in intensity, it was hard to miss the dark circles under her eyes, especially now. He paused, torn between letting her sleep and waking her so that she could at least sleep in her bed and not on the ground. There was nothing protecting her from the hard earth.

As he got closer, he realized how strangely her chest moved. Rapidly, like she was panting. He frowned, moving closer and spotting beads of sweat on her forehead, her nightgown sticking to her. It had not gotten that hot yet; even he felt that the weather this morning was surprisingly pleasant.

"Dammit, Hal." He dropped to his knees, rolling her onto her back as he pressed his forehead against hers. He recoiled. She was burning up! He wrapped an arm under her shoulders, pulling her up and slapping her cheeks gently. "Hal? Hal, can you hear me? Can you wake up for me?"

She flinched and buried herself in the crook of his arm. "Go away," she slurred, her voice heavy with exhaustion and sickness. "I'm tired."

"Hal, tell me how you feel. Does it hurt anywhere?"

"I'm hot," she whimpered. She tried to push him away, as if he were the problem, clawing at her nightgown as if to free herself from such confinements.

 _I can't believe I didn't realize it,_ Thorn said, his voice laced with guilt. _And she was pressed up against me all night, which I'm sure made it worse._

 _This is not your fault. It is mine._ He thought of how easily he had dismissed his own concerns after she had simply smiled at him, as if knowing what affect it would have on his worries. Because surely no one would be ill with a smile like that. Amon had warned him, and he felt stupid for not realizing sooner that she was lying. _I should have cancelled our lessons and let her rest —_

 _She never would've have let you. She would have only studied on her own._

 _Then I should have made her. She's so stubborn._

 _Like her teacher._

Murtagh rolled his eyes. _Thank you, for keeping her company last night. I'm glad she at least was not alone._

 _The pleasure was all mine. I just wish there was more I could do._

 _She'll be all right, of that I have no doubt. Do not worry, my friend._

Mennes turned the corner and approached, took one look at her, and swore. "Halen, you bloody, good-for-nothing idiot! Move!" He snapped this last part at Murtagh who stumbled back as Mennes got to his knees. "I outta string you up by your ankles you raving moron. Look at you! Look at the state you're in!"

"Hey, calm down," Murtagh said sharply, rather irritated with the man's total lack of propriety.

"Don't start on me right now," Mennes hissed, turning his wrath on Murtagh. "Let me show you something, and then perhaps you'll think better before questioning me."

Murtagh opened his mouth to speak when a warm hand graced his shoulder. He looked up as Denu shook his head, looking equally concerned and disappointed. Murtagh turned as Mennes roughly shook Hal awake, and she protested with several colorful swears that made Murtagh's brows rise in amusement, but he fought the urge to laugh knowing now was not the time.

"Oh heavens, not you," Hal whined, trying to turn away from Mennes who manhandled her so that she was facing him. He shook her again and she winced.

"Enlighten us, smart girl: how long have you felt ill?"

Her head rolled and he shook her again.

"Answer me, Hal, or I shove a handful of pambu roots down your throat."

She winced at that, and Murtagh surmised that pambu roots were not pleasant. She mumbled something under her breath and Mennes shook her again. "Louder, so that we can all hear you."

"I said nearly three weeks!" she snapped, and Mennes practically flung himself away from her. Murtagh froze, stunned and horrified that it had gone on that long and he hadn't noticed. He had assumed it was only a few days. A week at most. "I outta let you fight this on your own, you damn fool." Hal glared at him, but she didn't respond, wavering unsteadily even from her spot on the ground. "How many times are we going to do this, Halen? Year after year after year and you _never_ learn. Do you expect a prize for biggest village idiot? Do you expect that Denu and Amon and the others will coddle you for your arrogance?"

"Hey, that's enough!" Murtagh said sharply.

"I'll say when it's enough!" Mennes roared. "Do you not realize this could kill her? Do you know how many children and mothers and fathers and grandparents have been taken by illnesses like this? I can only help her if she is honest and _every year_ she lies. Every year she hides her fevers and her nausea and the aches and the insomnia, and every year it has gotten progressively _worse_. And do you want to know _why_ she falls ill?" Murtagh didn't respond. "Stress! Every year she insists on doing everything on her own, she insists on doing everything without asking for help from anyone. She eats less, barely sleeps, works herself into a state of exhaustion. And one day it will get—her— _killed_ , leaving the rest of us to wonder what we could have done differently to prevent this."

Murtagh watched Hal with a stony expression, understanding dawning on him. Not just a one-time thing. But an ongoing habit that she had yet to break. And knowing that his training had contributed to it only made him feel worse, and for that, he was disappointed. But not, he was surprised to find, with himself, but with Hal, for putting him in that position.

"She is not a child and I refuse to treat her like one. I'm sick and tired of having the same conversation with someone who refuses to listen to reason and I will stop wasting my breath. Now if you're done giving me lip, pick her up and take her to bed so I can treat the little brat and get on with my day."

Hal avoided his gaze as Murtagh lifted her. She was light in his arms, her head falling against his chest as her arms fell limply at her side. When she was in bed, Murtagh said, "I can heal her, with magic."

"Absolutely not," Mennes said. "The idiot got herself sick, the idiot will get herself un-sick. Then I can properly have someone like Ayo whoop her later for her severe lack of self-preservation and for her inconsiderate behavior towards those who would obviously be upset if she got this ill."

 _Hal feels so indebted to the man she won't even tell him when she gets a splinter._ Something else Amon had said. Murtagh shook his head, so confused by her motivations. He knew they had only known each other a short while, but he had thought he was beginning to make sense of her. Now he felt like everything he thought he knew was unraveling, but mainly because he had not been looking to see what had obviously been there the entire time. He knew she was stubborn, knew she could be proud and arrogant. She was, as Thorn had said, much like him in that regard. But he had always assumed her reasoning was her intense protectiveness of the villagers. And in a way, he knew it was. But this…this felt like something else. It felt personal, private. Something only Hal would think, and something Hal would fiercely protect to keep others from knowing the truth.

Murtagh consented to helping as much as he could, fetching several bowls of cool water from the river, rags, and starting a fire so that Mennes would have hot water for her herbs. Despite his earlier harshness with her, Mennes was gentle as he took one of the rags, soaked it, and began washing the sweat off of Hal's skin, attempting to cool her down. He muttered irritably under his breath all the while, but Murtagh began to feel guilty for being short with the man. It was obvious that he, like everyone else, loved Hal dearly.

Deciding to stop being useless, Murtagh dropped down beside Mennes and picked up another rag. He soaked it and began to wash Hal's legs and feet, mimicking the man's long, smooth strokes. His brows were set as he ignored the man's stares. But Mennes did not protest — not that it would've stopped Murtagh if he had.

Murtagh noticed small scars on her body as they washed her, ones he hadn't noticed before when he was healing her. They looked fairly innocent compared to the ones on her back. Injuries likely from her time spent in the woods. He failed to keep a small smile off his face. He did not know too many women with such testaments to a life lived so fully. And he had never seen her upset or apologetic for having them. Perhaps one day he would ask her about where she had gotten them, as he grew more curious the more he discovered.

He felt her grow stiff as he reached her feet, and he tried to keep himself from blushing at such an aware reaction. Of course, washing someone's feet was typically a sign of humility, taking on a position of one lower than the one being washed. But it was also very intimate, as many wives did it for their husbands. But Murtagh did not let that stop him, until Hal suddenly jerked away from his touch. He looked up at her, his heart dropping as he feared he had offended her. Her eyes were embarrassed, if not rather dazed from her fever, as she muttered, "That tickles."

Relief tore through him as he smiled.

When they were done, Murtagh fetched Hal clean sheets before helping her back into bed as Mennes left to steep the herbs for her tea. Denu went to find her some fruit to help put something gentle on her stomach, leaving her and Murtagh alone for a few minutes.

However, he could not think of anything to say. Despite his anger that she had lied, had put herself at risk, he took one look at the way her eyes fluttered rapidly underneath her lids and felt the fight leave him. He dampened one of the rags again and set it on her forehead, letting some of the water trickle down her face and neck to cool her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he could see the apology in her unfocused gaze. He shook his head. "Just focus on getting better. We'll talk then."

She ate, then drank the tea in silence, gagging like a child at the bitter taste. "Drink it all, or I'll pinch your nose closed and force it down your throat," Mennes warned, and Hal shot him a dirty look before finishing the drink, wincing all the while and looking like she might throw it back up. As she did, Mennes said to Murtagh, "That tea will put her out for a good bit, which will allow her body to hopefully break that wretched fever. Make sure she takes it again when she wakes, and do this every time. If you run out, fetch me or Eren so we can bring more. Use the rags to make sure she stays cool, and make sure she continues to eat with the tea, otherwise it could upset her stomach. She's not to leave that bed unless I clear her to do so."

"As always, thank you, Mennes," Denu said appreciatively. "I don't know what we would do without you."

"I think we're all aware of what would happen, Denu. So, some of us in this room better start wising up before it's too late."

He gave a pointed and wholly unnecessary look at Hal's sleeping figure — everyone knew who he was referring to. With a final shake of his head, he turned to Murtagh and said, "Steel your heart now, Dragon Rider. When she is ill, her night terrors worsen beyond belief. And they will be enough to frighten even you."


	25. Chapter 25: A Bond Beyond Words

Despite the ample warning, nothing could have prepared Murtagh for what he would endure for the next several days while Hal was sick. Mennes was right in that the tea would keep her knocked out, but it must've put her in such a deep slumber that when the nightmares returned on the very first night, nothing Murtagh did woke her. Absolutely nothing.

He had decided to sleep in a chair in the corner of her room, not wanting to stray too far while also allowing Denu to rest more comfortably in his room. The first few whimpers had quickly woken him up, but he thought nothing of them and returned to sleep, his neck already feeling crooked from the way his head had fallen.

He jumped when the first scream shocked his system, but it was not as it was the first night when he felt his blood run cold. He hated to admit that he had become accustomed to her night terrors and fits, but he still empathized with Hal's plight. He groggily rose to his feet as Hal thrashed and moaned on the bed.

She let out a keening cry, but that's not what made him freeze. She arched as though in pain and said the one thing he had never heard her utter since they had met.

" _MAMA!_ "

Murtagh shook his head of the shock, pinning her down with an unfortunately practiced ease, knowing exactly where to grip her arms, place his knees, and situate his hips so that she could not move nor buck him off. She cried and wailed as he began to tell the usual story. Occasionally he had mixed things up, replacing a ride with Nani with a ride with Thorn, using imagery from his flights to fuel the story, wondering if they reached her at all.

"She won't wake," Denu said suddenly from the doorway, appearing exhausted and weary.

Murtagh stopped to look at the man. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the tea is a drug, and a strong one at that. It puts her in such a deep sleep that we have never been able to wake her from whatever it is that haunts her. I suspect it is part of the reason she does not admit when she is ill. The herbs Mennes uses are impeccable in terms of healing capabilities, and it is our only option with this kind of sickness. But as a result…"

" _MAMA! DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME! MAMA!"_

Denu's eyes burned with tears and he turned away, unable to hear anymore. Not again, after so many years of it. But Murtagh would shoulder that burden for him. For Hal. And so, he continued his story, and when it didn't work, he told it to her again. He spoke until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry, grateful when Denu brought him cup after cup of water to relive his parched mouth.

He did this for four days and four nights, as unrelenting as her dreams. Eventually he stopped pinning her down, finding a way to wrap his arms around her shoulder and his legs around her ankles so that he could keep her from attacking him without making it seem like he was trapping her. And she would scream and cry for a family that was apparently long dead. Some moments he thought she was reliving her torture by the Ra'zac instead, but he couldn't be sure.

He slept very little, if at all. And when she woke, she was so out of it he wondered if she remembered any of it. Her gaze was so empty and distant; he suspected she held on to fragments of what she endured even after it was over.

Murtagh took care to wash her body like he and Mennes had the first day, wiping the sweat off her skin and the dried tears from her face. On the morning of the fifth day, he did the same thing, head drooping from another sleepless night. But he shook it off. All he had to do was remember how Hal had done the same thing for him when she saved him from the ocean to keep him going. She had been unrelenting in her care for him for damn near a month, and still cared for him even now. Preparing the meals, even hunting the meat and picking the fruit and seasonings she used, washing the laundry — including his own — cleaning the hut, on top of her duties of watching the children, plus the time she still managed to take to give her lessons proper attention.

So, he would endure this, as she had endured it, and then some.

He did not flush as much as he used to as he washed her, running the rag across her forehead, dampening her lips so that they did not dry, wiping away the beads of sweat on her chest. He realized he had no reason to be embarrassed, just as Hal likely hadn't been when she had seen him undressed. She had a duty to his well-being then, and that same duty drove him to put foolish thoughts aside. And her usual blunt candor about it now made sense.

However, he could not help but pause, once more, at the scars on her fingers from where the Ra'zac had broken them. He still hated that he had not been strong enough to heal them properly. He had tried to correct this since, but Hal denied him every time. "As long as I can use my hand, I don't care about something as vain as scarring."

Seeing the rest of the scars on her body, her words made much more sense. But he also knew how much it hurt to look at something that reminded you of a pain inflicted on you. And he hadn't wanted that for Hal. He still didn't.

He ran his fingers over the scarring, consumed with rage and regret as he remembered how horrified he had been, the state he had found her in. The emptiness in her eyes, like she had lost all semblance of hope when she realized that was no mercy to be found at the hands of the Ra'zac. That fire had slowly been returning, and he did not think it arrogant to credit her work during his lessons. Whenever he had praised her, whenever she had mastered a lesson, he had seen that fragment of passion and confidence return, even if only for a moment. Her successes had fueled him as well, because the sight of her joy brought him peace.

Her fingers suddenly tightened around his hand, holding it. His head snapped up to find her watching him, her smile pained. Her gaze looked clearer and more focused than it had in a while, but there was a lingering sadness there, as if she knew what he had been thinking about.

Relief stirred in him as he clutched her hand in his, pulling it to his chest as he moved closer. He pushed her hair from her face, the strands damp from his rag. And he did this continuously, unconsciously. He stroked the side of her temple, looking at her as if she had been comatose and was waking up for the first time in months.

"How are you feeling?"

She slowly shook her head, the tears welling up in her eyes as her face began to contort with the pain of her anguish. She quickly covered her eyes with her free hand. He didn't know what she was feeling — how could he possibly? But her pain twisted something inside of him. After the last few nights, nothing about her was as it seemed. At least not to him. But he didn't want to see her suffer. Not anymore.

"You're safe, Hal," he reminded her, continuing to stroke her hair. He would not tell her don't cry. She had every reason to after what she had to relive. But he would not let anything else happen to her. He would make sure her nightmares remained just that. He had to. He did not think he could endure what he had felt that moment her life had slipped away in front of him. That panic and desperation had driven him to this point. He would not give up on her now.

"You're safe," he repeated quietly. "You're safe."

She began to calm down, her body growing slack. She sniffed, wiping her face. When she met his gaze again, it was with a bashful look that made his cheeks hot.

"Rider?"

Her voice was weak, and the sound of it made him move, sitting up to go fetch her some water. But she stopped him, gripping his hand tightly and squeezing the fingers, almost like she feared what would happen if he left. She quickly released him, as if realizing what she had done, the message she had conveyed without meaning to. But it was enough for him, and he resumed his spot by her side, watching as her shoulders grew slack when he began to stroke her hair again.

"Rider?" she repeated again.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the dwarves."

…

Murtagh didn't remember falling asleep. He had been telling Hal of dwarves and elves and Urugals and other creatures she had never before seen. She asked no questions, which was a first. Instead, she listened intently, her eyes wide like a child being told a story. He felt this intense sort of expectation to make everything sound as interesting as possible. Yet at the same time, Hal was always such a thoughtful listener that he could've been drawling on about the rate at which grass grows and felt she would've carried the same level of attentiveness.

Yet somewhere in there, his body had grown weak with exhaustion, perhaps bored by his own stories even though Hal was not. His head would fall, and he would jerk with a sudden awareness and apologize before continuing where he left off. But then she had smiled at him, perhaps one of the sweetest, softest smiles he had ever beheld. And she had begun to stroke his hair, pushing it back from his face in a soothing manner, just like what he had done for her.

And now he was waking up.

In Hal's bed.

He swore to himself, unsure of how much time had passed. It was dark. Dammit all. He was in so much trouble. He tried to extract himself, but Hal had gotten tangled up in him. His arm was under her neck, his body practically covering her as though to shield her from some unknown attack. More embarrassingly was the one leg he had thrown over hers, which allowed Hal to nestle herself in even tighter into the crux of his body.

When he pulled away, she moved in closer, attracted to the heat of his body. He paused at the tiny gesture, realizing he didn't want to wake her either. She was actually sleeping. Peacefully. And after a few minutes of arguing with himself, he laid back down, facing her.

He dared raise his hand, hesitating, nervous. But something about her was drawing him in, and it was stronger now than ever before. He swallowed. Then he resumed stroking her hair, imagining that, if any nightmares had crept close to her while she slept, the gesture would scare them away.

She moved closer to him, gripping the material of his shirt and letting him know that she was not as asleep as he had thought. Yet he didn't feel embarrassed. At this point, what was left to be embarrassed about? All they had endured together, all they had learned about each other in such a rushed amount of time. It was unconventional, he knew. But neither of them had grown up with anything close to conventional so, perhaps, this was the next best thing.

In that moment, he decided to stop fighting it. He pulled her in, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders. And she responded almost immediately, her arms going around his waist. Her fingers tightly fisted the back of his tunic and his hold on her tightened. He could feel it then, the connection he had felt with her ever since he had touched her mind.

 _Come to me, Halen._

 _To me..._

He wasn't sure why it felt like things had shifted, but they had. These last few days…she was not just someone who had been tortured. She was someone who was haunted, by memories and pain and regret that had been inflicted on her by others. Her screams, her cries, and, even more so, her silence, were proof of that. He realized that, with Hal, it was not what she said, but what she didn't. She was private about her past. Private about what the Ra'zac had done to her in that cave. Private about being so severely ill.

And not, he was realizing, because she was proud or foolish. Although those factors did contribute. No, her silence stemmed from the trauma that picked at the soul of a child who had never come to grips with it. She still harbored deep, emotional connections to that pain. Probably because she was still holding on to the people, the family, she had lost. And even now, she still struggled to let others in.

He knew, because he was doing the same, damn thing.

 _Like calls to like_ , Amon had said. How perceptive the man had been, even all those months ago. Only now did Murtagh realize how emotionally drawn to Hal he had been, even from the beginning. Now it felt like it had been confirmed. And although he would not wish this kind of loneliness on anyone, there was a comfort to be found in her arms knowing that she understood what it meant to be trapped in your head. Trapped in your memories. And unable to forgive yourself for the pain you caused as a result. And to hold her now, and to be held in return, felt like they had both finally allowed themselves to admit what had been hanging there for a while now.

What this meant for him in the long-run, he did not know. He wasn't supposed to get attached. He had wanted to handle his business and leave. Yet he knew, thinking back, he had sealed his fate the second he had gone after her in that cave. No, he realized. The second he had invited himself and Thorn on her quest.

Whatever happened, happened. But at least, for once, he would be in control of his own fate.

…

Hal was finally sitting up in bed on the morning of the sixth day. She was eager to get out and stretch her legs before she developed sores on her back, but Denu had already warned her that she would wait until Mennes cleared her. And she knew she was in no position to argue with Mennes. She loathed facing him now that she was coherent.

She read from one of her worn, little books. It was a book of poetry, not one of her sketchbooks. She didn't know the author, the name had been worn off the cover by the time the book had been gifted to her by Ayo, after he had returned from the mainland with a few others for trade purposes.

But, perhaps, 'read' was not the right word. She had been reading the same sentence for almost an hour. Focused, instead, on the rider's soft, dark hair as it fell between her fingers. She had been stroking it since he had fallen back asleep. He had moved off her bed, the proper thing to do although she missed the warmth of him — which made her rather flustered. But he had moved his chair to her bedside, keeping close, as he had folded his arms across her cot and rested his head there. She had started to stroke his hair then, and he had fallen asleep not long after. She felt no desire to stop, but her heart raced as such intimacy that had blossomed between them literally overnight. Although, she supposed, the tension had been brewing for a while, ever since the Ra'zac had taken her.

The door slowly swung open as Denu poked his head in. She knew he would hear Murtagh's smooth, even breaths and know better than to wake him. Denu crept in quietly with a bowl of broth and some fruit. Hal lowered her book to her lap, feeling famished just looking at the light meal.

"How are you feeling, love?"

Ashamed. Exhausted. Confused. Sad. "Still…tired," was all she could manage.

Denu nodded and she continued to stroke Murtagh's hair away from his face, grateful Denu could not see so that she did not have to stop. "How long has he been asleep?"

"Not long. I'm trying to keep him out as long as possible."

There was a long pause as Denu hovered over the bed thoughtfully, setting the tray down on the smaller table beside her. Finally, he said, "He is not what I expected."

"I told you he would not be slaughtering any villages."

The old man shook his head. "Not that — although yes, that too. I meant just his overall…persistence. Amon tells me he is always the first one on site, ready to work, and last to leave. Not to mention…"

When the pause went on far longer than Hal cared for it to, she said, "What Denu?"

"I don't mean to embarrass you," he exclaimed. "But I was going to say he's also very attentive to you as well."

Hal slowed in her movements. "How so?" She had an inkling, but the last several days were foggy, distant. She hoped to glean some additional information about what may or may not have happened, especially if it impacted the rider's perception of her.

"The last few days, he has not left your side. Not once. And even before then, whenever you had one of your nightmares, by the time I got to you, he was already holding you down, already telling the same story we always do to bring you back to us. He's more or less memorized it already. And his voice is so…tender. I almost felt like _I'm_ intruding."

Hal's face was hot, but she tried to sound nonchalant as she muttered, "You're ridiculous, old man."

The man chuckled. "I said I didn't want to embarrass you, didn't I?" He had. And she was rather embarrassed. Especially considering Hal had somewhat taken advantage of his attentiveness last night when he had fallen asleep mid-sentence. And he had collapsed onto the space beside her, and she had watched him as he slept, studying his face with a maddening blush on her cheeks. She didn't want to wake him, and had kept so still, so quiet, until she had fallen asleep as well. And when she had woken up with his body flush against hers, when they had held each other in silent understanding and mutual respect, Hal had felt something. She didn't know what it was, but she was grateful to Murtagh, for staying by her side. For making her feel less alone. "It seems he is worried about you, much how you worried over him when he was injured."

Yet she felt like more of a burden. A nuisance. He could not control his injuries. And she felt like she _should_ be able to control her dreams. Yet she hadn't. She should've told Mennes as soon as she had been feeling the familiar symptoms of sickness — or at least Murtagh so that he could have halted their practices. But she hadn't. She couldn't. But either way, she had lost precious days of lessons. Although…she looked down at Murtagh and felt her body grow hot again at the thought of how close they had been last night. It was far from appropriate, scandalous even, and yet she could not make herself care. Add to that how bashful yet determined he had been to take care of her, washing the sweat from her skin especially, and Hal was finding it rather difficult to regret her sickness.

"I will be sure to thank him then," she said with finality, ending the conversation. "I'll figure out a proper way to repay him."

Hal kept putting off the conversation with the rider for as long as she could stomach. She did not know how to broach the subject of her nightmares, as they were not part of their conversations in the slightest. He did not mention anything either. But she felt indebted to him, considering it no small feat that he felt any sort of obligation to help her in a time of such distress. And that he was taking so much pressure off Denu really struck a chord with her, and she wanted to find some way to thank him properly. She was rarely ever so sentimental. She often took on tasks for others as a way to show her gratitude. She doubted, after the stunt she had just pulled, the rider would accept the same token. In the meantime, all she could think to do was throw herself into her studies and continue to take her lessons seriously when they finally started back up again.

Eventually, she made up her mind. Hal wasn't sure what she hoped to accomplish — she wasn't even confident it was fitting. But very early in the morning, when the moon and stars were still out, she fetched Nani and another horse from the stables before waking Thorn and then going to wake Murtagh.

She felt guilty, for he looked somewhat relaxed in his sleep (she had actually managed to sleep through the night). He slept on his stomach, his hands tucked under his pillow. His hair was in his face, falling into his eyes. She found herself smiling as she kneeled down. "Rider," she whispered. Nothing. "Rider, wake up." Still no sign of movement. She poked him, and he stirred, but only just. She swallowed nervously, leaning close to his ear. "Murtagh."

His eyes flew open before finding hers, staring in confusion and exhaustion. "Hal?"

"Get up. We're leaving. And hurry, we have a lot of ground to cover. Thorn's already up and waiting."

"Wait, what? Where are we going? What's going on?"

She had to close her eyes, feeling a surprisingly pleasant chill at how gruff he sounded waking up. He was often awake by the time she usually spoke to him in the morning and much more coherent. "Come along rider, there's no time to waste."

No one was up, not even Denu. Hal led Murtagh and Thorn carefully through the woods. Murtagh was quiet, trying not to fall asleep in the saddle.

It began to grow light enough that she could just make out what was in front of them. Realizing then the time, she urged Nani forward rather suddenly, grateful she had saddled Murtagh a steed able to keep up with her in such thickets. The air thinned somewhat as the elevation steadily rose. He followed quietly, leaving Hal to wonder why she was so desperate to find a proper thank you gift for someone she was desperately trying to distance herself from. Well she hadn't really tried. And now? She didn't really want to.

"What on earth —?" said Murtagh, breathing wildly as he finally caught up with Hal, who had dismounted and was tying Nani to a small tree. Murtagh followed her lead, pestering Hal with questions until she spun on her heel.

But all she did was press her fingers to his lips to silence him. He was shocked, but it had the desired effect. Hal hesitated for a moment, then she held out her hand. He stared at her as though she were mad, but she stood there, her hand out.

He took it.

She breathed, turning on her heel to lead him through a thick, tricky patch of branches, vines, and bushes. It got darker, hence why she had held out her hand. He would easily lose her, and his grip on her reminded Hal to move slowly. But she found the warmth in his fingers soothing. He never touched her without reason, and she couldn't help but recall the times he had. How strong his hands had seemed, healing her wounds or comforting her.

It was several minutes before they emerged in a small clearing where the forest seemed to continue as normal. But the landscape was steep, and Hal sucked in her breath as the sky grew faint. "Hurry," she said, and then she squeezed his hand and pulled him forward.

Running up the cliff was not an easy task, but fortunately they were both fit and quick on their feet. Hal was panting, but she found herself smiling as they neared the edge. They were both breathless when they reached the top, doubled over breathing. Thorn was already waiting for them, and Hal was happy to know her directions had made sense — that or he had simply figured it out on his own.

"What has gotten into you?"

But she was already moving, still gripping his hand as she moved him carefully along the rocks. They were mere breadths from the edge, from tumbling down into the water. Hal found a spot where she snaked her arm around a tree, standing. Murtagh sat down, able to rest his feet on an alcove of rock below. "What are we doing here?"

"Just watch."

"Hal —"

"I said," she gripped his chin, "watch."

She was forcing his gaze across the ocean, and they waited, some more patiently than others. She was sure he knew what he would see when he realized where they were, the direction they were facing. But when the sun finally broke across the horizon, he sucked in his breath and Hal smiled, sitting down beside him.

"This is the highest point of elevation on the island," Hal said proudly, as if she had created it from the earth herself.

That was all she said, for she did not need to explain further. The sun seemed to rise rapidly in the sky, hence, why she rushed them. She had seen this view quite a few times on her own when her sleepless nights caused her to wander the island on her own. It was something she felt Murtagh should see. Something she wanted him to see, in fact.

The vibrant colors of the sky, the mist over the water, the stars still in the sky slowly vanishing as the light took over its duty for the day. The animals emerged from their nests, bringing gentle noises of wakefulness. And they watched in silence as the island came to life. The sun was already warming their faces, and Hal leaned in, wishing she could fly into it. She breathed in the dew on the grass and moss, listened to the birds chirping their sweet melodies, and then she looked at Murtagh.

He was staring at the view beyond them, awestruck. She smiled, feeling her lips stretch across her face in the brightest smile she could give another person. This feeling, this joy she felt staring at the only magic she had ever known — and needed — made her feel whole. It was an emotion that, try as she might, she knew she could not hide, not even from him. So, she did not attempt to do so.

"I found this spot at the lowest moment of my life," she admitted slowly, staring ahead. "And it stirred something in me I had not felt in quite some time. Watching dawn break — watching the world start over with a new day with such beauty and grandeur. I find peace at this spot. Clarity. Purpose. Magic, can do amazing things. Man and other living creatures, can do amazing things. But this…we are not capable of this. Magic cannot replicate what nature produces on its own."

He swallowed. "Why are you showing us this?"

She licked her lips slowly, taking a shuddering breath. "I cannot offer you much, as a way to thank you for all you have done these last few weeks."

"Hal —"

"No, please, let me finish." He slammed his mouth shut. "These last few months have been really… _hard_." Her voice broke on the word, but she fought against her emotions, trying to remain calm. She breathed. "And for you and Thorn to have been there for me, means _everything_ to me, rider. Denu too. And I cannot offer you much. But I can offer you this. A bit of peace and beauty that has brought me hope even in my darkest days. I hope it may do the same for you."

His expression briefly twisted with emotion; then, with tears streaming down his face, he began to laugh. It was clear and radiant, light and free. So different from the burdened weight he seemed to carry day in and day out. His tears were ones of happiness, that much she knew. And his smile…his smile reached his eyes, his face as warm as the sunrise they watched. Oh, how it transformed him completely. It hurt to watch, to know how rare this kind of smile must be, and she studied every curve and dimple and wrinkle around his eyes, committing them to precious memory. She would tuck this expression away, pretend that it was for her and her alone.

Thorn crooned loudly, scaring a family of birds in the trees overhead. Murtagh laughed again, but it was softer as he wiped his eyes.

"May I ask what you are thinking?"

He looked over at her, the ghost of a smile still on his face. "I am thinking," he said slowly, "that in all of my years, no one has ever given me a gift, let alone one as beautiful as this. Something precious to them as a token to me. And I can't help…" His eyes began to water, but this time, his face was twisted in pain, the hurt returning. "I can't help but wonder at the miserable existence I had led before this. And how you still see fit to treat me like a human being even though I do not deserve it."

His answer stunned her, and his breakdown shook her to her core. Hal unfurled without thinking, rushing to his side but he stopped her. "I'm fine. I promise, I just…" Now he sounded like her, muttering nonsense in an attempt to downplay true emotional outbursts. But he did calm down, and as he did, he took her hands in his.

"This is the greatest gift I have ever received, Hal." He flashed her that smile again and she felt her heart skip a beat. "Thank you."


	26. Chapter 26: An Offer to Good to Be True

"Are you sure you're all right, Hal?"

Panting, breathless, Hal tried her best to talk. "Aside from the fact that you've thrown me on my back again, I'm peachy."

"You seem more distracted than usual," Murtagh commented, helping her to her feet. Almost immediately the earth began to spin and she stumbled, nearly falling back down until Murtagh quickly moved to catch her. "Careful now, take it easy," he said gently, lowering her back down.

"I'm fine."

"You're pushing yourself too hard again."

"I'm practicing."

He rolled his eyes but she ignored him. But she saw the black spots enter her vision and put her head between her legs. Her trousers and sleeveless top were sticking to her skin, her hair too. Murtagh's face was red and he was equally covered in sweat.

"I'm calling it," he declared. "It's too hot to continue."

Hal was frustrated, but it was hard to argue with her knees covering her ears. Murtagh sat down beside her, offering pieces of fruit and her water. They snacked in silence until Murtagh suddenly rose to his feet. "This is unbearable," he groaned.

Flummoxed by his sudden declaration, Hal watched as he stalked forward, pausing at the edge of the pool of water. Suddenly, he began pulling off his boots, setting them to the side before pulling his shirt up and over his head. Hal blinked, her eyes taking in how his scars seemed to glow against his tanned skin, the muscles on his shoulders and arms that had become more impressively defined these last few months. Then she felt her entire face burn even hotter when she realized she was staring, and she quickly turned her head to offer him privacy. But she heard him laugh. "I'm not that bold, Hal. Just hot. I can't stand this stifling heat sometimes."

She stared, turning slowly as he jumped in, his trousers very much still on. She frowned, confused, but unable to take her eyes off him. When he finally resurfaced, she had crept closer, unable to hide her smile. "What are you doing, rider?"

"It's like I said. I'm hot and wanted to cool off. Besides, you've earned a break Hal. We both have."

He backstroked away from her, grinning from ear to ear like a child. She had never seen him like this before. Light-hearted, yes. Teasing, of course. But playful? She shook her head. "Who are you and what have you done with Murtagh Morzansson?"

Murtagh looked disappointed. "I was hoping you would just cooperate with me." He looked behind her. "Thorn."

It took Hal a moment to realize what he meant, but it was already too late. "Don't—!" The damn dragon's tail shoved lightly against her back. Hal yelped in surprise as she tumbled into the water. She hated how almost immediately cool and refreshing it was.

When she came up for air, Murtagh was smiling. They both treaded water as Hal pushed the loose strands of hair from her face. "What's gotten into you?" she asked lightly.

Thorn suddenly crooned before taking off for the skies. Hal watched, squinting and with her hand to block the sun from her eyes. When she realized what Thorn was doing, her eyes went wide. "Murtagh, he wouldn't!"

But the rider, laughing, was already swimming towards Hal. He dragged her under water and they both swam away as Thorn hit the surface. Certainly not as hard as he could have, but they were propelled forward, tossing and turning in the waves. When the water calmed down, they both swam for the surface. When Hal came up, she was already laughing, trying not to choke on the water entering her mouth from the residual waves. Thorn floated on his back, relaxing.

Murtagh came up in front of her. "Bloody oversized lizard," he teased. "You're lucky there's still water in the pool!" Thorn huffed irritably, otherwise ignoring him.

Hal shook her head. "Seriously — what's gotten into you?"

Murtagh shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I'm just in a good mood."

And suddenly, in that moment, that answer was good enough for Hal. They teased and splashed around for much of the afternoon, like children with nothing but time on their hands. It was the most freeing experience she had had in what felt like a lifetime, spending time with Murtagh and Thorn as friends, and nothing more. She did not think of training or Ra'zac or her past or her fears. She let herself completely relax, swapping rumors and gossip she and Murtagh had heard with stories from the village.

When they grew tired, they laid in the grass on the other side of the pool, drying out in the heat. Murtagh asked her about her upbringing, and Hal slowly opened up about her life on the island of Uden. They went back and forth like they often did in these matters. A story for a story. A question for a question. Murtagh spoke of his upbringing before and after his parents died. For perhaps the first time, they spoke as friends, unrestrained and without judgement.

There was a mutual respect, a quiet understanding and safe space that had grown between them since she was sick. But Hal knew she would be remiss if she did not think that moment of watching the sunrise together had almost sealed their fate. Something had changed in him afterwards, although it had been slow to reveal itself. He seemed…lighter. More relaxed. And as his guarded ways shifted slightly, it opened him up to companionship with the villagers that he hadn't quite had before. Of course, he had grown particularly close with Amon, Sam, Ayo, Eli, and Cado, and, by extension, their families as well. But when others saw how he was around them, it was as though they felt more inclined to talk and jest with him as well, pulled in by curiosity and the strange, new energy that resonated around him.

As for Hal? Well she knew it had been different for her for a while. Had felt herself draw nearer to him during the hours they spent leaning over her notes and studying magic together. She felt she had gotten to know him in a more intimate setting: one on one, with no other villagers around to distract them or interrupt. She had tried to constantly tell herself he was not staying, and yet she had gone and gotten herself attached to him anyway. She had never really had friends who were not only closer to her in age, but related to her hardships and joys on a similar scale. It was like a breath of fresh air, one she hadn't known she needed.

Lying on her stomach, Hal fiddled with a wilting dandelion, the yellow fading and brown in some places. Their clothes were already drying, her hair still damp but quickly regaining its natural, thick curl. She plucked at the dying petals as Murtagh lay with his hands under his head, staring up at the sky. "Hal, if I ask you something, will you promise not to laugh."

"It depends."

He looked over at her with a deadpanned expression on his face.

"I may laugh so I cannot make any promises."

"At least you're honest."

"I will be sure to remind you of that next time you say I'm _too_ honest."

They shared a smile before his gaze turned upward again. "What kind of man would you say I am?"

She blinked. Then she blinked again. "I don't —" She shook her head. "Why?"

"Because I have felt oddly at peace these last few days. And the question came to me last night. If this peace meant I was the same man I was before. But does a man like me deserve to feel peace? To feel happy?"

Hal watched him curiously. So, she had been right in thinking he seemed more content than he had in the beginning. He looked at her, growing embarrassed. "I must sound ridiculous —"

"Of course, you don't," she countered quickly, not wanting doubt to set it just because she was slow to process her thoughts. "It's a very sane and rational question. I sometimes still ask myself that."

Murtagh rolled onto his side, facing her. His head was in his hand, his eyes watching her. Hal felt her face grow hot, and struggled to press forward, feeling an unspoken expectation in his gaze. Then again, his gaze, as of late, was enough to make her forget herself, even if for a moment. Especially ever since she had seen his true smile. "You are a hard man to describe," she admitted nervously.

"Just try. I have felt lost for a very long time and I want to get someone's perspective."

But why hers? Hal bit her lip, thinking carefully before responding.

"I don't know if I have the perfect answer, but rider — Murtagh," she corrected, her face growing hot as his name fell from her lips. His eyes were warm and safe. Patient. She felt her composure worsen and looked down. "All the times, you could have turned away, but you didn't. You didn't have to come here, didn't have to stay. And you did. Maybe you didn't want to, but you did. And I can't put into words how much that means to me. How happy it makes me that you and Thorn are here…"

She stumbled again, embarrassed. She didn't like sharing from the heart, but the way he was looking at her right now…he was a hard man to resist.

"Your burdens, your sins — whatever you want to call them — to me…to me, you have always been more than that. More than your father's son or Galbatorix's slave — those titles have meant very little to me. The Murtagh _I_ see, the one I've gotten to know, he's a good man. You're a _good man_. All your life, you have been told otherwise and you have come to allow yourself to believe it. And good men can do bad things, for the right _and_ wrong reasons. You are no exception nor the rule. But if peace is what you have found, do not argue its merits. Accept it, hold on to it, for as long as you possibly can. Because even for the saintly, tomorrow is not guaranteed to be as kind as today."

"Do you think there's hope for me then?"

His voice was shaking, and he cleared it uncomfortably. Hal gave him a kind smile. "If you have to ask, it means you care. And as long as you care, rider, there's always hope."

…

"Murtagh watch!"

"Murtagh, look at me!"

"Murtagh, can you do this?!"

"Murtagh may want to consider growing another pair of eyes," Hal snickered to herself. Murtagh snorted, trying to divide his attention between the screaming children accordingly. Layla sat between his legs, pressing flowers in a book. The other children were running and jumping into another pool Hal knew of in the woods, much closer to the village. With the ongoing heat wave, she had decided to take the children to cool off and the beach was too far to walk.

"Murtagh, grow another flower," Layla commanded.

"Excuse you," Hal said, narrowing her eyes.

Layla look up at Murtagh and smiled. "Pleeease."

He grinned, this time sprouting a pale pink lily from the ground. Layla giggled vivaciously as she plucked it from the ground. But then she paused and stared at it curiously. Then she turned to face Murtagh, climbing to her knees so that she could cup her hands around his ear and lean in, whispering, "Can I give this to Hal?"

Murtagh glanced over at her. She was absorbed in her sketches of Thorn. When Murtagh had questioned why she would need it despite the one he had made for her, she had simply said, "That was before. I have some more time to get my sketch just right, and I would like to challenge myself to draw him. I'll still keep yours, of course, if that's what you're worried about." Her tone had been teasing, knowing, and he had blushed, brushing off her last comment despite its accuracy.

"How about this?" she asked the dragon, moving her book over so that he could peer at the pages. When the red dragon shook his head, Hal made a face. "Now you're just being picky, it's damn-near perfect. Maybe if you stopped fidgeting—" Thorn huffed a gust of hot air at her and she shrieked in surprise, laughing. But she went back to her sketches, eventually turning to face Thorn so that she could get every detail right as she turned to a clean page.

Murtagh almost forgot why he had turned to watch Hal in the first place when Layla began to whine his name, impatiently waiting his response. He blushed, snapping back around before anyone noticed and so that he could give Layla his undivided attention. "Sure. But you don't need to ask me. And why are you whispering?"

Layla frowned as if he hadn't answered her question. Then she appeared thoughtful before stepping over his legs. She tapped Hal on the shoulder. Murtagh grinned as they both placed their hands to their heads.

"Captain Hal."

"Lieutenant Commander Warrior Princess Layla."

They saluted. Murtagh stared in disbelief. What was Hal teaching her?

"Look what Murtagh made."

Hal ooo'd and ahh'd accordingly, pulling the girl into her lap and quickly forgetting about her sketch. But Murtagh leaned back against the tree and sighed loudly, appearing lonely and forlorn. And Layla promptly jumped up and returned to him. Hal stared in open-mouthed shocked while Murtagh cackled with laughter.

"Layla!" Hal cried indignantly.

But the girl shrugged as she dropped back into his lap. "I always spend time with you Hal. I can't just leave Murtagh."

"Yes, you can! I thought we were like sisters."

"We are!" Layla said quickly. "Don't be mad, Hal. But I want to spend more time with Murtagh before he leaves."

Hal's laughter froze on her face and Murtagh's playful demeanor disappeared. Layla didn't seem to notice, humming as she returned to her flower arrangements. Hal met his gaze and gave him a weak smile, returning to her sketch.

Just like that, it was as though things had begun to shift. Suddenly Murtagh was constantly reminded that he was supposed to be getting ready to leave. Cado and Eli kept inviting him out for "one last round" of drinks and the children kept asking him to spend time with them. People began to ask what his plans were once he left and if he needed any supplies to take with him. He politely declined, although their offers humbled and surprised him.

His lessons with Hal became rather strained in a way. They barely talked unless it was about the material. She was excelling at almost everything he had set out to teach her, but he realized there was so much more for her to learn. Late at night, after she had gone to bed, he began making additional notes on a piece of parchment of other easy, yet effective spells she could continue to work on in his absence.

And despite the lack of threat to her life, he became more paranoid as his time on the island came to a close. He didn't want to completely abandon her. So, with a little over a week to spare before his departure, Murtagh decided on his final lesson.

"Scrying?" Halen questioned.

"Yes. It allows you to see people and places you've seen before. As long as you can picture it clearly in your mind, it will appear on any reflective surface, like water or a mirror, although mirrors are often preferred since the surface won't move." She nodded. So far, so good. "It also allows you to communicate with someone if you need to. So, for example, if you ever have a question for me, you can contact me and we can speak as if we were face-to-face."

Her eyes grew wide. "We would be able to keep in touch?"

He smiled. "Aye."

"How does it work?"

She caught on quickly, and he had her practice by scrying Thorn just outside. As they were beginning to wrap up their lesson, Hal asked, "When will you return?"

His shoulders slumped. "I don't intend to, Hal."

He could tell that hadn't been what she wanted to hear or even expected. "What?"

"To travel back and forth risks exposure. I don't want to get caught. Once we are free of the kingdom…I don't see much point in returning."

"Ah." Hal said in a rather clipped tone. "I suppose that…does make sense."

Murtagh watched the dip in her shoulders with confliction. He would be lying to himself if he said he would not miss her or the village. He had not expected any of this, and part of him was loathed to give it up. On the other hand, he was secretly pleased that she was upset. It was cruel, he knew. But he wasn't used to the feeling of someone missing him.

He watched her quietly as she returned to her notes, her face a mixture of concentration and distraction, her frustration building. Murtagh pulled one knee to his chest, propping his arm up. Before he lost his nerve, Murtagh blurted quietly, "Would you consider coming with me?"

Her quill slowed to a stop, but she did not look up. "Travel with you out east." It hadn't been a question, but still he answered.

"Yes."

She raised her head, trying to read his face as if expecting him to start laughing and say he was only kidding. But as soon as the words had left his mouth, he realized how serious he was. Hal was too…lively for life in a small village. She had an adventurous spirit that rivaled any Murtagh had ever seen before. He could show her things she hadn't even dreamed of. Surely…surely anyone would want that.

A slow smile spread across her face, but the sadness in her eyes was palpable. "We would certainly be the talk of the village. They would say we eloped."

"We could do it you know," Murtagh pressed, leaning forward with earnest to tuck her hair behind her ear. She inhaled sharply, her gaze never leaving his. "Travel across the sea. I could show you the Beor Mountains and the Hadarac desert. You could see cities and ports, filled with the finest silks and sweetest desserts. Wouldn't you like that?"

Her expression became pained. "Of course, I would," she said in a tight voice. "The offer feels almost too good to be true."

Murtagh's face fell. "But."

"But," she continued sadly, "you talk of never returning and I can't commit to that. To never seeing Denu again. Or the children or anyone else. At some point, I'd want to come back. I'd want to come _home_."

Murtagh should've anticipated that. He should've known better than to ask at all. But the pain in his chest at her words was very raw with dejection. "If I was wanting to return, even if the time in between was vast, does that mean you would have stayed…with me?"

The mood shifted and Murtagh struggled to understand just what exactly he was feeling in that moment. Hal was looking into her lap, biting her lip thoughtfully and fiddling mindlessly with her fingers. Impatient for a response, he reached out and grasped her hands in one of his own, keeping them still. Her scars smooth against his palm. She looked up in surprise, her brown eyes boring into his grey.

"Yes," she finally said, her voice breathless as if she couldn't believe it. "Yes, I would have stayed…gone," she corrected quickly, embarrassed, "with you. My response probably would've just been a packed bag and plea to leave now before we were caught."

He smiled, trying to ease her nerves a bit despite the ache building in his chest as he ran his thumb across the flesh on the inside of her wrist. "What kind of adventures do you think we would have?"

Her face gently lit up at the thought, and Murtagh felt his heart race at the sight. "You would know better than I," Hal exclaimed. "You're well-traveled and well read."

"But I want to hear your thoughts," he pushed. She was much more imaginative and creative.

She grinned. "Okay, so I had a few thoughts. Most of which involve me rescuing you out of some mortal peril because you're absolutely hopeless without me it would seem…"

For Murtagh, it was the longest, most bittersweet conversation he had had in ages. They joked about everything, from Hal having to ride Thorn to the ridiculous lies they would tell to keep Murtagh's identity a secret. She had been delighted to hear that he had once worn a fake beard to rescue Eragon. "Honestly the real one was frightening enough, no one would've guessed your identity." The assignment for the night remained forgotten on the table as they fetched themselves wine and crackers instead to aid in their storytelling. The more they drank, the more ludicrous their ideas became. But the laughter continued to flow along with their drinks, their tongues and inhibitions loose, and their bodies warm.

And the longer they talked, the more vividly the scenes began to take shape in his mind. None of the more ridiculous ones, but the simple ones. Hal walking through a port city for the first time. He could imagine the way her eyes would dart across the landscape, attempting to take in the bustling women moving from stall to stall, the men shouting their prices, bartering for cheaper goods. Her eyes would light up at the sight of something sweet, and he would be unable to resist her. And they would watch the ships come in, their fingers sticky as Hal would turn to him, asking where they would be off to next.

"Murtagh?"

"Hmm?"

"Is it true that you and Thorn will live forever?"

He was silent a moment, brought back into his reality. They were side-by-side, their backs against the wall and their legs sticking straight out. Her head was on his shoulder, and his head rested on hers. He knew the emboldened intimacy was because of the wine, and he was still cognizant enough to notice how Hal smelled gently of lavender and chamomile, two soothing scents. Her body was warm and soft where it pressed against his, even if it was nothing more than her knee brushing against his. He felt a faint, and yet not completely unpleasant, chill when she touched him. One that, every so often, made him "suddenly" need to readjust his posture so that he would press against her again, feeling it throughout his entire body.

"In a sense, yes," he answered. "Dragon riders have longer lives than most."

"Would that ever get lonely?"

His shoulders suddenly felt heavy with an unspoken burden. "It already is."

She quietly took his hand in hers. He felt his heart race before realizing it must've been the wine. But he drew comfort and strength in her hold, and he squeezed her hand tightly. "Would you get bored of me? If I traveled with you and got too old?"

He inhaled sharply, not having thought of this before. Of outliving Halen and the other villagers. Suddenly his future seemed even more bleak. But he looked down at her, not wanting her to see how upset her question had made him. "Never," he said truthfully. "Besides, I don't think you could be boring, regardless of age."

She laughed. "I would certainly like to think so." When she fell silent again, Murtagh knew something was weighing heavily on her mind by the way she ducked her head down further — as if she could feel his gaze and was already trying her best to avoid it. But before he could coax her into telling him what was wrong, she looked up and placed her chin on his shoulder. He looked back at her expectantly, studying the curves in her face as he did so. Her soft, round cheeks, and narrow nose that led to — he noticed with a faint blush — a mouth that curved just like the bow she used as her weapon of choice.

"Stay," she whispered. "Just stay."

He sighed, looking away from the pleading look in her eyes. "Hal, you know I can't —"

"No, I don't know," she argued, frustration in her voice. "I don't understand what urgent matter you have to attend to that makes you so eager to leave."

"I'm not eager," he clarified. "I'm not…I just, I _need_ this, Hal. I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder. Once you pass the desert, the land is out of the kingdom's control because it is too far away. I want freedom and peace of mind to live my life as Murtagh. Not as the son of Morzan, or the slave to Galbatorix, or even Eragon's half-brother. I want to get _my_ life back. This is not a slight against you or the Tenari," he added gently, cupping her face in his hand. "This is something I need to do. For me and for Thorn."

He could see that she understood, and although he was satisfied with that, it hurt. She closed her eyes against a slow wave of tears. He watched with rapt attention, the tears falling gently down her cheeks. No one had ever cried for him. His heart softened as Hal cleared her throat, sniffing and trying to regain her composure.

"I will not lie to you, rider," she muttered, trying to wipe her eyes, "I don't like this."

"I don't like it either," Murtagh said gently. He wiped a fresh tear from her eye. Then, before he lost his nerve — although much of it was all wine at this point — he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She hesitated for a few long seconds before she wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest and his heartbeat thumping under her ear.

This wasn't supposed to happen, he knew. And it wasn't fair to him that he should find another that would make saying goodbye so difficult. But Nasuada hadn't been quite the same. It hadn't been that he was eager to go, although the taste of freedom had a bitter tang then too. She had not argued that he stay, because they both knew he couldn't. Not after what he had put her though. And he would be marked for death by every creature of the land if he remained. She would have had to choose: him or the throne. And she had already made her choice clear.

He closed his eyes, still haunted by her torture. _I cannot forgive, but I understand_. They had parted under the best of terms considering the circumstances. And he had found ways to keep an eye on her, just to be sure she was okay. Safe. He hadn't done so in a while, but he had been otherwise preoccupied.

He looked down at the top of Hal's head. This was different. He didn't know how or why, but it was. But in the end, it was just one more thing he was fated to lose. And losing was all he knew how to do. But this time, he would not leave bitter or angry. For perhaps the first time, he would leave with hope and the knowledge that he could be accepted by others despite the things he had done.

He bowed his head. "I will miss you, Hal."

She did not trust herself to speak, her eyes burning at the unfairness of it all. But they held on to each other tightly, as though to preserve the moment for as long as possible.


	27. Chapter 27: Stay

Hal struggled to pull herself awake, her head thick and full of wine. She could already feel the sun on her face and knew she had overslept. But she hardly cared at this point. It was a rest day anyway, and there were leftovers that Denu could eat for breakfast if he was hungry.

"Ooo, I think they're waking up," someone whispered, but it wasn't quietly.

"This is too good," another voice added giddily.

Hal sneered, pressing her head deeper into her pillow. Was she dreaming or was someone in her room? What did they want now?

Wait.

 _They're_ waking up?

Hal opened one bleary eye, then another. She winced. She didn't realize she'd had that much to drink, but she would apparently be feeling it today. She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder and she sat up a bit as Murtagh lifted his head. "Mornin'," he grunted, his voice just as groggy and confused. For whatever reason, Hal continued to find the sound oddly pleasant.

"Morn —" she yawned, cutting herself off. Then she froze as she slowly began to register what had happened. Feeling his arm around her shoulder, her hand on his chest, and their legs tangled.

"Three, two —"

Hal looked over her shoulder to find Cado, Amon, and Tena all grinning at them from the doorway. Her eyes grew wide.

"One," Tena finished with a teasing look.

Hal struggled to leap to her feet, accidentally pressing down hard on Murtagh's stomach. He let out a pained grunt as she tried not to trip over the edge of the table, the room spinning a bit as if she were still drunk. "This isn't, we weren't —" Her face was so hot and she was so flustered she could not figure out what she was trying to say. "I was just —"

"Tired, right?" Tena finished.

"What are you three even doing here?" Hal whispered, mortified. But not because they had been caught. Well, not _only_ because they had been caught. But because she certainly would not have minded remaining in that position for a few minutes longer. Her body was still flushed from where it had been pressed against his.

"We came to see if the rider wanted to join us for a hunt," Cado said. "Denu let us in on his way out."

"And when we saw how cozy you two looked," Amon added, "I just had to fetch Tena so she could see for herself."

"Mai and Sarah are going to _die_ when they hear this."

"Well if it keeps them from running their big mouths…" Hal deadpanned.

"Go on without me," Murtagh sighed, sitting up. "I'm in no condition to wield weapons today."

Amon chuckled. "Fair enough. Perhaps another time then, before you head out."

The three village idiots left with final knowing looks and teasing smiles, making a show of slowly closing the door behind them. Hal felt like a rock was stuck in her throat. She looked down when Murtagh slipped his hand into hers and, before she could react, yanked her back down. Hal yelped in surprise as he caught her, his eyes still faintly closed with exhaustion.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as he began to fold her back into the curve of his body. Hal didn't even fight it, she didn't want to. But she was still confused. So very confused.

"I'm still tired," he complained.

"And apparently still drunk," she added under her breath, wondering if he'd be this bold if he were properly sober. Wondering if _she_ was still drunk, because why was she going along with it?

"Those idiots woke me up, and from a good dream too."

Hal smiled at the sleepy irritation in his voice. "What was the dream about?"

"Nothing important. But I never have good dreams."

He squeezed her tightly, and Hal seemed to understand his implication. "So, you're just using me then?" she teased, feigning hurt.

"Perhaps," he said. Hal wanted to ask what he meant, but he was already fast asleep. She waited until his breathing became smooth and easy and his grip on her relaxed before turning so that she could look at him. A piece of hair had fallen into his face, and she moved to push it back when she hesitated, not wanting to wake him. Not to mention it was absurd.

What were they doing? What were they _thinking_? They were lucky to have been caught by Cado, Amon, and Tena, who would not care. If it had been Tengene or Mennes, they would likely declare Hal would need to be wed to avoid further disgrace.

She placed her arm across his chest and rested her chin on top. Gone were the frown lines that would often settle down between his brows, or the vein in his forehead and neck. His chest rose gently with each breath he took, his mouth barely parted. It was the most at peace he had ever looked. When he left, if he found the freedom he was looking for, would he always sleep like this? Would he have more good dreams and laugh as easily as he had been?

Hal would certainly like to think so. She was unsure of how or when she became so invested in his emotional well-being. It was hard not to care after hearing about his past. About how much he's struggled to find a semblance of something good to hold on to, to figure out who Murtagh Morzansson truly was. The Tenari had been her saving grace. Denu, her silver lining. And she had selfishly hoped that the same would hold true for Murtagh.

She eventually sat up, her back to him as she hugged one knee to her chest, laying her head down on it with solemn despair. He had quickly become her confidant. He knew things about her, secrets that he would take with him. Their conversations flowed naturally, a clear indication of comradery and growth since their first conversation in the beginning when they had been wary of each other. How was she supposed to let go of the only friend she had ever truly had? How was she supposed to accept that she would never see him again, and resolve herself to mirrored communications for the rest of her life? What if he left and this…connection they had on the island didn't survive? What if he became disinterested or found another and moved on and forgot about her?

Her chest tightened, her thoughts making her feel rejected even though she knew this was just as hard for Murtagh as it was her. She resigned herself to stand and vacate the room as quietly as possible. His proximity alone muddled her thoughts. But before she left, she took a final, longing look at his sleeping form. She truly hoped he found whatever joy or peace he was looking for. And if that search must take him east, then east he should go.

She just wished…

Hal shook her head, turning out of the room. She was so very foolish.

…

If Denu knew she and Murtagh had accidentally spent the night together, he didn't say anything. He spoke amicably of the engagement of two people Hal barely interacted with. The terms of the woman's dowry were still being discussed by the families, but they expected a positive resolution in a few days so that plans for the wedding could begin. The old man loved weddings, and was already discussing the ceremony. Hal fed the horses, her thoughts elsewhere. And eventually, Denu had to ask.

"You're awfully quiet today," he began. "Is something troubling you?"

Hal decided to be honest. "I told Murtagh I didn't want him to leave."

"And what did he say?"

"That it's something he needs to do for himself and for Thorn. That I am likely to never see him again." And thus, proving why she never told people how she truly felt. Thus, reminding her, why it was better to keep a healthy distance from the other people in her life.

"And that upset you."

"Of course it did! But he…" Hal hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She swallowed thickly. "He asked if I would consider coming with him."

"Layla would be deeply envious of you right about now."

"It's no laughing matter, Denu."

"Why — are you so horrified by the thought of going with him?" She couldn't look at him, and he read her silence like it was an open book. "Or rather," he said slowly, a sad smile pulling at his lips, "you want to."

"I told him I couldn't," she said quickly, afraid she had upset the man. "I couldn't bear never seeing you or the village again. Of course, he understood."

Denu shook his head. "You don't have to explain yourself, my child." He was thoughtful a moment. "If you would have been able to visit when you liked, would you have gone with him?"

"I probably would already have my bags packed," Hal sighed, finding a stool. She found another for Denu and he joined her as they both sat down.

"I always thought you had a great spirit for adventure," Denu said with an agreeable nod. "And I would trust Murtagh and Thorn to keep a careful eye on you — although you are formidable in your own right."

"It matters not," Hal said. "I cannot go, and that is that."

"Why can't you go?"

He seemed genuinely confused and Hal stared at the old man in bewilderment. "I would never see you again," Hal reiterated with concern that he seemed so casual about all of this. "I couldn't possibly —"

"I am an old man, my love. And I imagine my time will come soon enough —"

"Don't say that," she breathed, horrified at the thought.

"I'm not trying to scare you. But I have done all I have set out to do. I have lived a good life. And all that is left for me is knowing that you will do the same, wherever and with whomever that may be. You are restless here, Halen. You know this — and I think you knew what I would say if you broached this subject with me."

Her chest grew tight.

"I would rather never see you again, knowing you are the happiest you can be, rather than have you at my side filled with regret and misery. It is no way for a young woman — with so much life ahead of her — to be."

Hal was quiet, her mind racing with the burden of the choices laid out before her. "I will support you in whatever you decide," Denu said with a tone of finality. "But just make the decision on what you want, and not what will make anyone else happy. That is all I ask."

It was an ask easier in theory than in practice. As she moved through her chores, Hal stayed in deep thought, thankful that it was a quiet day with not much socializing going on.

It seemed ridiculous. She had only known Murtagh and Thorn for a few months. And now they were talking of traveling together like they had been companions for years. But Denu did not think it far-fetched, and against his logic, Hal felt her resolve weakening.

Could she really do it? Could she really pack her things and leave behind her life on Illium? Did she want to or did she just like the idea of it? Was it adventure that called out to her heart, or something else entirely?

"If you stare any harder, you're going to burn a hole through the sheet."

Hal glanced over at Murtagh, unsure of how she had missed his arrival. She tried to smile, but her heart wasn't in it. It fell flat and she blushed, feeling sheepish. "Just thinking."

"About this morning?"

"About last night," she clarified, avoiding his gaze. She continued hanging up the laundry, the wind whipping the clothes and sheets away from her. "About your…proposition."

He followed after her as she moved down the clothesline. "About you coming with me."

Her eyes darted quickly to him, trying to gauge his reaction. But she couldn't read his expression, and she quickly looked back at her work. "Yes."

"And?"

He had taken a small but eager step forward. Hal could not help but smile. So, he truly wanted her to come? It hadn't just been the wine talking? "Denu is not put out by the idea," she hedged carefully. "He thinks I should give it healthy consideration."

"Will you?"

She turned to face him, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice. "Do you truly want me to come with you? And if so, why? This is a huge decision that we shouldn't make lightly. You say you won't tire of me but what if you do? And what if I become depressed being away from home? We've only known each other a few short months — is that enough time for us to make this kind of decision? How are you so calm about this?"

He shrugged. "I knew as soon as I asked you that I wanted you by my side," he said matter-of-factly. She flushed at his words. "You worry about things that could just as soon happen if I stayed here." He took an emboldened step forward and Hal, shocked by his proximity, remained frozen in place. "We both may become depressed if we stay, we both may become depressed if we decide to go. But all of those scenarios keep you and me together, and that is all I want."

"It's all I want too, but _why_?" she stressed, finding the root of her concern. "Why is this so difficult?"

"Because against our better judgement, we have become attached to one another," Murtagh said, not unkindly. He placed a comforting hand on the top of her head and Hal leaned forward, placing her forehead on his chest. "And neither of us are very comfortable with goodbyes."

She sighed, dejected by the truth in his words. She wished there was an easy fix. An obvious solution that would not make her heart ache so. But then again…she already knew. Wrapping her arms around his narrow hips, her face hidden in the soft material of his shirt, she made her decision.

She felt the tears run freely. "I have to stay here," she said, fisting his shirt tightly, hating herself. "I want so badly to go with you. And see the mountains, and a city, and laugh with you, and yell at you, and to see all of what this life has to offer." She took a deep breath. "The memory of you will not hold for long, and scrying will not be enough. But it's _something_ ," she hissed, pained. "I cannot do the same of the Tenari. I cannot talk with them or check on them and see how they're doing. And I do not have it in me to sever all connections. I want so badly for it to be you, but I just…I _can't_."

"I know," Murtagh whispered. "I know." He wrapped his arms around her as the gravity of the situation took its toll on her. He was leaving to places and parts unknown. He knew things about her no one else ever would. She knew things about him that perhaps no one would ever know. Secrets that had brought them together and made the days feel a little less lonely. He had been someone in which Hal had been unabashedly herself and it was freeing. And to him, she would always be grateful. Hal already missed him terribly.

By the time she had calmed down, her nose was running and her eyelids were puffy. "Your shirt's a mess," she whined, embarrassed and suddenly very tired. She tried wiping at it, although there was nothing she could do without, at least, a damp washcloth. "I'm sorry."

"No, this is my fault," he said, his voice low. "I shouldn't have put you in that position — I didn't mean to cause you such distress."

Hal shook her head. "I'm glad you asked me," she admitted. "It may sound ridiculous, but I like knowing that you…thought enough of me to ask."

"I could stay," he began, his eyes troubled, but desperate. "I don't have to go —"

"Absolutely not," Hal interrupted firmly, looking up at him so he could see how serious she was. "When you talk about going east, you talk of finding peace. Foraging your own path as your own man." She cupped his face in her hands, dismayed by how torn he was. "I want that for you, more than I want you to stay. You and Thorn deserve happiness, Murtagh. I will not be another obstacle in your life who takes that away from you."

He put their foreheads together, the frown lines returning between his brows. The first time he had done this, he had touched her mind when she had been on the brink of death. He had almost lost her then, and now he was faced with losing her once more. His grip became tight on her, their bodies flushed together in a way that made Hal's head spin. He looked as though he was fighting with himself, and Hal smiled, recalling Denu's words from before. She brushed her fingers across his cheeks, and his eyes snapped open in surprise. "I would rather never see you again," she said, speaking carefully, "knowing you are the _happiest_ you can be, rather than have you at my side filled with regret and misery."

He blinked back tears, and she could see that, like her, he had already made up his mind too. Otherwise, this wouldn't hurt so much. "Hal," he breathed, his voice pained.

"And if you ever need someplace to come home to," she finished, "I hope you will think of us first." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. She carefully avoided his gaze as she turned away from him, returning to the hut as she covered her mouth with her hand, holding back her sobs until she was in the comfort of her room.

…

The next few days seemed to unfairly speed up after that. Murtagh tried to hold on to every memory as tightly as he could, but it all felt so fleeting and pointless. At one point, he debated if it was worth trying to cherish every little thing if it would only make leaving more difficult. Yet he could not resist the allure of the friendships he had made. He did not have the heart to turn down an invitation to play from the children, or to grab drinks with the men after the women retired to bed.

The hardest, of course, was Hal, for she was everywhere. She was one of the first faces he saw when he woke up, and the last face before he retired to bed. Her smiles came slower, her eyes filled with a sadness that could not be lifted. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she just looked numb. But whenever he broached the topic of staying, she was adamant that he think only of himself.

But Murtagh didn't know what to think anymore. Everything was so muddled and difficult. He would hurt either way.

 _Thorn, you have been awfully quiet on the matter_ , Murtagh pointed out one day. They were with Hal, her nose in a book. It had been another day to return to their hidden trove in the woods. They had all but abandoned her lessons at this point. She had mastered scrying, and Murtagh did not want to introduce anything new to her now. She would sometimes bring her notes, studying quietly to herself or asking questions she had not thought to ask before. But today, she read only from a small book of short stories, her back up against the same sturdy oak as it always was.

 _I do not think this decision is up to me,_ Thorn said thoughtfully, lying in the small patch of sun that managed to infiltrate the circle of trees right in the center.

Murtagh scoffed. _Why wouldn't it be?_

 _Because I know what I want, but I do not want it to influence your decision. You should come to it on your own. And know that I will support you, no matter what._

Murtagh, who had been flipping through another one of Hal's sketchbooks, sat up and looked at Thorn. Hal briefly glanced up, but when realizing he and Thorn were talking, lowered her gaze once more. _If you have a decision, I want you to tell me. This is your life too._

 _Perhaps. But although I have an opinion, I am ultimately satisfied with whatever you choose. I can see how much this decision haunts you; therefore, I believe you should be the one to make it._

 _But that's just it. I don't know what I want._

 _Well, you want freedom._

 _Yes._

 _You want peace, and peace of mind. You want a place to call your own._

 _Of course._

 _But you also want Hal._

"No!"

Hal jumped, staring at him in alarm, her hand already reaching for the dagger she kept at her waist before realizing there was no threat. "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Sorry," Murtagh mumbled. "I'm — Thorn's being a pain."

She shook her head at him slowly, clutching her chest in obvious fright. When her concern finally lessened and she was back to ignoring him, Murtagh shot Thorn a murderous glance. _Don't say things in a suggesting or misleading way like that_ , he snapped.

 _Apologies,_ Thorn huffed, not sorry at all. _I didn't mean for anyone to overhear._

 _That's not what I meant and you know it._

 _Besides, there is no point in denying it when we share a mind. You have come to care for Hal. It is not so much leaving the village that is ailing you, but leaving her._ When Murtagh didn't respond, Thorn continued. _The issue is easier to resolve when you are willing to admit what is bothering you to begin with._

 _And what, pray tell, is bothering me?_

 _You have talked of going east for some time. If Hal had been coming with us, it would be easier to tell yourself that her feelings for you were stronger than yours for her. And they would, therefore, be easier to brush aside. Or even more ideally, if there were no feelings involved at all. But if you were to stay, then it would mean admitting that she has enough sway over you, and that is frightening for even the most rational and sane man._

 _That doesn't mean anything._

Thorn yawned, rolling onto his back to let his stomach bask in the sun. Hal momentarily watched him, a soft smile on her face, like she was still amazed that she was watching a larger-than-life, magical predator take a nap like a cat in the sun. Murtagh smiled, but his face grew serious again when Thorn responded.

 _Before, we left everything behind because we had no choice. We knew we would be shunned and we would spend our lives looking over our shoulder. That is the life we have come to expect, and it is, sadly, the only life we know._

 _Until we got here._

 _Until we got here,_ Thorn agreed. _It is frightening, I admit. It's like a perfect dream. Despite how things started for us, I have found peace here. And a happiness that I was beginning to fear we would never have. I do not think we will find this anywhere else, young one._

Murtagh's face became grim. Y _ou want to stay._

 _Yes — and I think you do too._

 _Thorn —_

 _At worst, we leave one month, two years, or twenty years from now. At best, we have found a place to call our own. But why rush into something we don't know will turn out in our favor? And I know you, I sense your emotions and feel exactly what you do. We both know that you do not wish to be parted from Hal. You would not be happy, no matter how far we went, if she were to stay behind._

Murtagh looked over at her. She was watching a ladybug crawl up her arm, setting down a finger when it got too high and almost went under the sleeves of her dress. _She's just one person_ , Murtagh said. _I would be risking everything for one person._

 _Nasuada was just one person. To me, you are just one person. For Hal, Denu was just one person. One person can have a profound impact on our lives. The man you were back then is not the man you are now. That, I can promise you. Even in these last months, you have changed. Nasuada gave you hope, and because of her, we got a second chance. But Hal gives you peace, and I think that frightens you more because you have never known yourself without your anger. And that is why I think you owe it to yourself to stay._

Murtagh sat there, speechless. But as Thorn finished speaking, his words taking shape in Murtagh's mind, he realized the truth in them. And he felt even more anxious at the realization.

 _Be honest with me, young one: Would staying here with Hal make you happy?_

Murtagh swallowed. _Yes_.

 _And would leaving, knowing she will remain on Illium, make you happy?_

He shook his head.

 _Then stop being a stubborn ass about this_ , Thorn snapped. _You know what you must do._


	28. Chapter 28: Enemies & Acquaintances

Hal was not oblivious to Murtagh's sudden shift in demeanor. He seemed…nervous. Unusually so. She decided not to ask, unsure if it was something she was supposed to notice to begin with. She bade him goodnight and he only grunted a barely audible response, looking rather sickly and distracted. Put out, Hal went to bed, assuming he was moody again about leaving. It seemed to hit everyone differently, that was for sure.

By the time she rose out of bed, she was shocked to find the sun out and shining. She hadn't expected to be so tired. And she soon discovered why no one had woken her — the hut was empty. Not even Thorn was outside.

Frowning, Hal washed her face and changed into her outfit for the day, leaving her hair in a side ponytail as she slipped on her sandals and went in search of the other occupants of her hut. She found an apple in the fruit basket in the kitchen and nibbled at it to ease her hunger. She checked Amon and Tena's finished hut, but found it unoccupied. She hesitated, unsure if she had missed something important. So, she headed towards the fields instead.

Instead, Hal was surprised to see what felt like half the village crowded around the building where Denu, Tengene and the others would often conduct their village leader meetings. The reed mats that filled the space between the columns were down, indicating a private meeting was going on.

"Hal!"

It was Eli, and she moseyed her way over to him. "Eli, what's going on here?" Hal asked with trepidation. "Is something wrong?"

The man shrugged. "Apparently Denu and Murtagh walked in there early this morning with Tengene, and the other heads. Thorn's been sitting outside. They've been in there for quite some time."

"So, you're all just being nosy?" she chastised, but she could not hide her teasing smile.

"It's too hot to work," Eli commented with a sly grin. "What else are we going to do to preoccupy ourselves?"

Hal didn't have time to question Eli further. The flaps were pushed back as Denu and Murtagh suddenly emerged from inside. She and Eli pushed through the crowd to get a closer look, and found Thorn in the process, standing near him off to the side with a better view. Murtagh still looked unnervingly pale, but Denu seemed very pleased. Hal couldn't tell which expression to focus on.

"It seems like everyone is already here," Denu said. He didn't shout. He didn't need to. Their exit had quickly quieted everyone, the air thick with great expectation. They were already listening attentively. Even Hal was straining, not wanting to miss anything. "Murtagh? Is there something you'd like to let them know?"

Murtagh looked at Denu, almost panicked at being called out. He seemed anxious as he scanned the crowd, the familiar and unfamiliar faces. But he stopped when his gaze landed on hers, and Hal knew then he had been looking for her. He stopped scanning, stopped fidgeting. He just stopped. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she could've sworn that he stood just a bit straighter. And even as he finally began to speak, he didn't look away, as though he meant to speak to her directly.

"I have talked it over with Thorn, with Denu, and the village leaders," he began, his eyes boring into her and making her heart flutter. "And I have received their blessing. So now, I turn to you all. I humbly ask that Thorn and I be allowed to remain here, with you, for as long as you will have us."

Hal froze in surprise.

An excited murmur broke out across the group. "You're going to stay?!"

It was Layla. Hal hadn't even seen her, but she emerged from between the legs of several adults to get in the front. Murtagh finally looked away and Hal felt the loss and its effects, but was grateful all the same. Eli nudged her side with is elbow, a pretentious smirk on his face letting her know he had seen the whole thing. She rolled her eyes, trying to downplay her racing heart, fighting the urge to grin like an idiot. Murtagh smiled at the girl. "Yes. If possible."

"I vote yes!" Layla shouted, raising her hand. That was not how the process worked, exactly, but it was clear from the positive outburst of cheers and applause that it would do. Color began to return to Murtagh's cheeks in obvious relief, but what happened after that, Hal didn't know. The crowd surged in to congratulate him and she lost sight of him entirely. She was shoved and nudged as people around her moved in. But she couldn't move.

A gentle nudge on her back made her turn around. Thorn huffed, her hair flying from her face as he nudged her cheek.

"I don't understand," she whispered to him. "He talked of going east for so long. Why would you choose to stay?"

Thorn didn't answer, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She placed a hand on his nose, the scales warm and breathtaking in the sun. "Is this truly what you both want?"

At that, he nodded. And Hal beamed, overcome with emotion. Surely this was too good to be true. She would wake up at any moment and realize it was all just a dream. She wiped her eyes as people shook her shoulders, excited and smiling. She stepped out of the way and found Denu standing off to the side, away from the mob.

"Was this your doing?" Hal asked him, still breathless with disbelief.

Denu shook his head, laughing at the rambunctious crowd before them. "I did nothing but call the meeting and speak on his behalf. He came to me last night asking if there is a process for staying. He was quite humble about it too. I think he feared our rejection."

Hal shook her head, dumbfounded. "I'm so confused."

Denu tilted his head. "Well I would not recommend getting mixed up in all of _that_ ," he said, gesturing to the crowd. "But I have no doubt that he will seek you out when they allow him a moment to breathe."

Hal nodded, barely able to contain her smile. She was about to hurry off — she had the sudden idea of preparing a special dinner for tonight — when a familiar and gentle presence touched her mind. She chuckled, preparing to grant him access when she found herself hesitating as a thought struck her: in all of their time together, not once had Murtagh tried to enter her mind without first telling her, and it was only for practice.

The push against her mind became insistent, tempting even. Hal kept her shield up, but she could feel her hesitation. Something was wrong. She needed to reach Murtagh, but the crowd was too thick. She moved towards Thorn, to ask him to pass along a warning, and lost her footing as pain in her head became blinding, a hot spear slowly being drilled into her skull.

 _Fight her, Halen!_

That voice. She had not heard it in a while, but she recognized it immediately. It was the same one from her dream.

 _It is time._

She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for air. The second wave was perhaps some of the worse physical pain Hal had ever endured, reminiscent of when the Ra'zac had tortured her. So nauseating, in fact, that she threw up without any warning whatsoever. She needed to focus, and she squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the hands on her shoulders and back, the outside voices calling her name.

Her shields weren't going to hold.

Whoever it was, they were strong. Stronger than what Murtagh had ever had her endure in practice. She could not, would not, let them in. She felt a sharp pain in her palms, her nails digging into the flesh as she concentrated. She let that pain ground her, focused on it. Endured it.

Then she cried out and pushed back against the force in her mind.

The surge of magic was unexpected, even for her. She felt another mind…no, she felt many. Many voices, shouting and screaming. Demanding control and finding none. There were no memories she could decipher as a clue as to who was behind the attack. Instead, it was all dark and full of bloodlust. Hands seemed to grip her, choke her, as if to drag her into the darkness. And the thought of being consumed by this made her scream, but her voice was swallowed by the vast void that sought to trap her. And it was the most terrifying thing she had ever felt. She wanted out. She needed to get out! It felt like anarchy, voices screaming for release, for violence, and for death.

Except for one.

There was one presence that was not like the others. It was quiet and submissive, trapped in a corner on its own, as if desperately trying not to be seen. It felt almost…child-like. And the second Hal turned towards it, she felt almost…relief. Sane even, a reprieve from the madness that made her remember herself, her own mind. Hal reached for the light, hoping to find mercy, and everything collapsed. She was thrust back as though shoved, and she didn't try and fight it. She felt as though she were returning to her own body, jolted back into a stark reality that made less and less sense.

She felt the fight leave her body, exhaustion and unconsciousness creeping up on her as a final voice, the other one, returned. This time with a warning.

 _Halen._

 _It is time._

 _She is coming._

…

It was Thorn that told him something was wrong before the cries of the shocked villagers reached him. Murtagh, embarrassed and stunned by all of the attention, had felt Thorn's sharp stab and knew immediately something was wrong. His expressions fell as Thorn said only one word.

 _Halen!_

Pushing through the crowd with desperation, his actions alerted everyone else that something was wrong. They turned to follow him, only to see what he did, their eyes wide in horror. Hal convulsing near a pile of her own sick, and blood was dripping from her nose, the vein on her temple prominent, like she was straining.

 _She suddenly collapsed_ , Thorn said, having put himself close by, covering her as best he could to keep the other villagers at bay except for Denu and Eli. _She must've sensed something was wrong because she was coming towards me. She looked frightened._

Her lids were half-closed as he dropped down beside her, and he could see the rapid movement of her eyes underneath. She suddenly began to choke just as spit bubbled and frothed at the corner of her mouth. And his hands began to shake with fear and adrenaline as he tried to roll her on her side.

A hand gripped his shoulder, and he realized it was Eli. "We must take her to Mennes. Now. Follow me."

Murtagh nodded stiffly, picking her up with difficulty as she continued to seize erratically. The crowd grew even worse, but they, at least, stepped back at the sense of urgency in their step.

"HAL!"

Layla rushed forward, looking petrified, but Tena appeared out of nowhere and stopped her, panic-stricken as she tried to console her sobbing child. Murtagh turned away. "Come on, Hal," he muttered, more to himself. "Fight it."

The old man, Mennes, was with his apprentice, Eren, running through a recipe and grinding herbs when they burst in.

"Murtagh?" Eren asked, looking up in confusion. He jumped up when he saw Hal and Mennes' mouth fell open.

"She's having a seizure of some kind," Murtagh croaked.

Mennes instructed Murtagh on where to set her down, his voice cordial but clipped. Mennes had still not quite reached the same level of agreeableness to the rider's presence as everyone else, but Murtagh had a feeling Denu had brought the man around to be more tolerable after Hal had taken ill.

Eli explained what he understood to have happened, which wasn't much except that it had all happened suddenly. And everyone agreed that this was not usual for Hal, even when she was ill. Mennes shook his head as he felt her forehead, listened to her heartbeat. Her convulsions, at least, were easing. "She has no fever, yet her heart is weak. Help me check for bites or infection."

Murtagh did as the man said. He checked her legs, sides, arms, hands, everything. As they did, Mennes asked additional questions that Murtagh and Eli did their best to answer. How long did the fit last? Perhaps no more than two minutes, although it certainly felt longer. Had she complained of a head injury beforehand? Not to their knowledge. Had she consumed anything unusual, possibly poisonous? Again, no. There was nothing to be revealed, and the physical examination revealed just as little. Mennes placed a cold rag on her forehead with a defeated sigh. "By all means, she is as fit as she ever was. I hate to say it, but we will have to wait and see once she wakes. Until then, she needs rest."

Eventually, Murtagh carried her back to her room, the concerned stares of the villagers boring into his back. Thorn tried to ease his mind, but Murtagh ignored him. He felt responsible, but, worst of all, he felt useless. Whatever was going on, Hal had to fight this on her own, and he hated himself for it.

Her breathing had grown easy as he laid her down into her cot, and she seemed as though she were merely sleeping aside from her sallow skin. He found a rag and wet it at the washbasin in her room, patting her forehead and wiping the dried blood off from around her nose. Denu sat in the rocking chair in her room while Murtagh contented himself with sitting on the floor by her bed, watching her face carefully for any sign of trouble or consciousness.

When Denu stepped out for a moment, Murtagh rose to his feet. Licking his lips, he placed his hand to her brow. He muttered the words of the Ancient Language, to see if he could get into her mind. He was instead met with a steel-like wall so strong that the force of it repelling him sent him stumbling backwards.

 _Thorn!_

 _I felt it too. That is not the same presence we feel when you are in her mind. That is not our Halen._

 _Which means —_

 _There is someone else in there with her._

…

By the time Hal finally awoke, her throat was unbearably dry and she felt as though Thorn were sitting on her. She struggled to open her eyes, which were unbearably heavy, as she tried to speak, but a soft, familiar voice shushed her. Denu helped her lift her head, and she grimaced at the harsh pounding in her temples. When she was upright, he passed her a cup. The water was soothing, although it tasted like it may have been sitting out for a few hours. "Slowly now, you've been out for nearly three days."

She choked, water dribbling out of the corner of her mouth as she finally managed to open her bleary eyes. She was about to ask but he shook his head again. "We don't know. I'm just relieved to know you're awake."

And something in his tone reminded her of that frightening darkness she had found herself in. And tears burned her eyes as she recalled with a visceral fear the thought that it would drag her under, never for her to emerge again. And it was so much like that cave in which the Ra'zac had tortured her that she thought she might be sick. She actually held her hand in front of her mouth, eyes closed as she waited for the panic and nausea to pass, choking down her sobs until the urge to cry passed as she could wipe the few tears that had fallen from her cheeks.

She finished the rest of her water and took a deep, shaking breath. She laid back down and something caught her eye. She turned her head to find Murtagh propped up against the wall. His forearm was resting on his knee, his head bowed in what had to be an uncomfortable position.

"He only just fell asleep a few hours ago; he refused to leave your side," Denu said quietly, somehow sensing the direction of her gaze. "You frightened him — frightened all of us."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice uneven as it betrayed the true state of her emotions to the one person she had hoped to hide them from.

"You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. Just get some rest. I'll bring you some food."

She didn't want him to go. Didn't want to be alone after everything she had felt in that attack. But she did not have the heart to tell Denu this as he kissed her hand and told her he would hurry back. She turned and looked at Murtagh. She wanted to wake him up, so that she would not have to be alone in this misery. So that he wouldn't have to worry anymore. But she couldn't do that either, the thought of it alone making her feel pathetic. She would let him sleep. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling, profusely blinking back tears, her hands fisting her sheets so tightly that she could feel the material tremble as she did.

 _She is coming._

Denu brought her something to eat, as well as some extras for Murtagh when he woke. She ate quietly, barely nibbling on the bread and fruit as Denu stayed by her side. When she finished what she could, Hal immediately went to take a bath. She was surprised with how dark it was outside, speculating it must be close to midnight judging from the position of the moon outside. She felt disoriented, being out for so long. And unnerved.

Three days. How strange. The stiffness in her body and the heaviness in her mind made it seem like it had been much longer. She undressed and climbed into the warm water, sighing at the relief. She let her hair out of its knotted, confining up-do and sunk her head under the water, thinking.

 _She is coming._

Vague and frightening, if the warning was even to be trusted. Who was 'she'? Could this be the master the Ra'zac had been referring? And who was giving Hal this warning to begin with? Was that what it meant for someone to break into her mind, like Murtagh had warned? But who, and how? In fact, not much of anything else made much sense either. The presences she felt, full of hatred and violence. The one that was not. Was it all in her head? And what in the heavens would she do if it wasn't?

When she finally emerged, she felt perhaps even more stressed, but at least she was cleaner. She pulled on a new dress and was in the middle of patting her hair dry when the door flew open. She jumped but before she could let out a protest at his inappropriate intrusion, Murtagh had covered the distance in a few quick steps. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping one arm around her waist and slinging the other across her back. He buried his face in her neck, tightening his hold on her.

He said nothing and he didn't have to. But Hal couldn't think straight. Her body was on fire, pressed up against his in such an intimate manner. She could feel his breath on her neck, and the thought of his lips so close to her made her blush. Her heart began to race, the blood pounding in her ears. It was so loud she was afraid he would hear it.

But he refused to let go, and she didn't want him to. She moved slowly, afraid of doing something that would make him loosen his hold. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, stroking the back of his head and neck to calm him down. And while she found it funny that she was comforting him, there was something innately soothing in his embrace. Something freeing after going through such an ordeal and allowing herself to be held, much like he had done for her at the party after her torture. And she gripped him tightly, unable to stave off the tears as they began to fall.

"It's okay," she whispered, closing her eyes and allowing herself to get lost in the warm embrace. "I'm okay." And saying as much out loud helped her breathing grow steady. _I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay._

She wasn't sure how long they stood there. Seconds? Maybe minutes. But after a while, she could feel his breathing become calmer, and his muscles began to relax. She felt his arms loosen their hold and she began to step back when he sharply pulled her back in. "Not yet."

When he finally did step back, his cheeks and ears were pink. He cleared his throat, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

She didn't know what to say. His suddenly shy and embarrassed demeanor was more endearing than she thought possible. It surpassed his expression of concern for her in terms of which was her favorite. She smiled. "It's all right."

He seemed to realize then, glancing up and seeing her tear-stained cheeks. She tried to laugh it off, feeling embarrassed at such emotions. And it seemed to take them both to wipe her face because the acknowledgement of her crying caused her to cry a bit more until she forced calm into her lungs and heart. But she was grateful when Murtagh folder her back into his embrace, holding her even tighter than before.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hal?"

She nodded her head, her cheek pressed against his chest. "I think so. Just shaken." Her grip on him tightened.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated, then said, "Yes. But not here."

Murtagh nodded in understanding, but there was something in his tone that worried her. Had something else happened? But before she could ask, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head up some, pressing his lips to her forehead. Hal sucked in a sharp intake of air. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, feeling as though time had stopped altogether. It was all she could do to make sure her knees didn't give out underneath her.

By the time her mind could even begin to process what was happening, his lips were gone and she couldn't find her voice. "I'm just relieved you're all right," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "I was so worried."

Hal looked up at him through her lashes, fully comprehending how close he was. She could see herself in his grey eyes, and a chill ran down her spine at the sight. "Thank you," she whispered. It was all she could get out; all her mind could muster up under the full force of his gaze.

Murtagh smiled and stepped back, still refusing to look away. "I apologize for charging in. I just…I needed to see you for myself."

Hal still couldn't speak as he turned and left. It felt like there was a rock in her throat. She raised her hand to her forehead, as if the kiss would leave a mark of some kind. Her body was hot, as alive as she felt whenever she was out in the woods. These feelings, she didn't know what to make of them. But they were more frightening than anything she could be fighting face-to-face.

…

"Layla, I told you I'm fine."

"Sorry Captain. Murtagh told me I wasn't to leave your side until he and Thorn got back," the girl stated with a false sense of authority "bestowed" upon her by the Dragon Rider. And "according to Murtagh," Dragon Rider outranks Captain. Ass.

Hal rolled her eyes. Ever since she had woken up the following morning, if she wasn't thinking of about what she had felt during her attack, she was thinking of Murtagh, his kiss, his body flush against hers, and the effect his gaze alone had on her. She felt at a loss and, despite taking solace in Layla's presence, needed someone to talk to about what she was feeling who was at least over the age sixteen. Or ten.

"Would you like some water?"

"No," Hal said distractedly, "I'm fine."

"You need to drink something, Hal," Layla said in a clipped tone, snapping Hal out of her reverie.

She could hear the exasperation in the young girl's voice and Hal caved. "Oh, all right. Hand me the cup."

Layla sat on Hal's bedside and watched, pleased, as Hal downed the water. She let out a dramatic sigh of relief and Layla giggled. "Are you sure you're all right, Hal?"

Hearing the worry in the girl's voice, Hal playfully tousled the top of her head and gave her a small smile. "Yes, Lieutenant. I'm sure."

"All right, Layla, I'm back — oh, Hal, you're awake." Murtagh gave them both a wide smile, and Hal looked away, unnerved by how much it meant to her to see it. Layla, however, beamed and jumped up from her spot to wrap her arms around Murtagh's waist. He laughed, smoothing down her thick hair that Hal had just ruffled. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes. But not as much as Hal did. She's been moody since you left."

Hal, flustered with betrayal, tossed her pillow at the little traitor as she ran off laughing. "Bye Murtagh! Bye Captain, feel better soon!"

Hal couldn't even look at him as he chuckled. He took the spot on the cot Layla had just occupied, raising hand to her forehead. "I'm fine," she said curtly.

"I just want to be sure."

"I'm —" But she fell quiet at his stern stare.

"You're still a bit warm."

"Well, we do live on an island." He gave her a look like he didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes, and she just pulled his hand away. "I'm fine, Murtagh."

"Will you stop being so stubborn?" Suddenly, he grinned cheekily. "If it helps, scry me next time I'm away and it'll feel like I'm practically in the room with you."

Hal didn't have another pillow, so she just punched him in the arm. "Ass," she hissed, her face brutally hot.

He chuckled, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him, and Hal found herself shamelessly pleased. He had a lovely smile, one that — she had realized for quite some time — she wanted to see more and more. She wanted his smile to be effortless, especially if it was directed at her.

"Mennes is set to come by this evening to give you final clearance to move around again," Murtagh told her, his voice dropping a few octaves even though they were alone. "If he does, do you think you'll be up for talking tomorrow?"

She hesitated, her pleasantness vanishing at the thought of reliving the ordeal. But she knew Murtagh needed to know what happened, and she found herself anxious to talk openly with him about it. So she nodded. He stepped out with a stern reminder for her to rest. But all Hal could feel was a dreaded sense of foreboding as she went back to trying to decipher the nature of her attack. It was certainly less nerve-wracking than the feelings the rider brought up in her lately.

…

Hal led the way as they walked to their usual spot. Murtagh had come to love this space as much as Hal had, enjoying its beauty and privacy. He was glad he would not have to part with it.

He watched her carefully, trying to note if she seemed more tired from their walk, frightened. She did seem anxious, and he knew something had happened to shake her resolve. He was desperate to know, but patient, not wanting to push her before she was ready. He had learned his lesson by now.

When they reached their secret spot, Hal finally began to speak in a low voice, explaining what had happened and everything she had heard. It sounded as disconcerting as he had feared. In fact, it sounded worse. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he told her. "And I'm so relieved you're okay, Hal. So very relieved."

Her smile was small, but sincere in her gratefulness. He could tell how hard reliving that had been. He did not take such things lightly. It was evidence that they were miles from where they had started.

Murtagh quickly told her of what he had observed from his end, then asked, "Did you feel anyone in there with you?"

She frowned, trying to formulate her response. "Yes and no. There was a voice, in my head. But I didn't _feel_ them like I felt you or this other person. It was just a voice. And it told me 'she is coming' and nothing else."

That unnerved him. "I'm sorry that I could not do more for you."

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?" She scoffed. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have even been able to defend myself." She shook her head. "I wish you would not belittle yourself so quickly."

"I just…I felt so useless. And if anything had happened to you as a result…"

Hal sidled up to him, a teasing smile on her face. "Look at you, being worried about me."

It was no laughing matter. Not this. Not to him.

"I've invested far too much time into you," he said in a low voice, mimicking what she had told him months ago when they were nothing more than strangers and he was stuck on the floor of Denu's hut. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not missing how stiff she got as his fingers brushed her cheek. He could never tell if that was a good sign or a bad one, but she never stopped him, which he knew she would if his touch was unwarranted. And the way she would look at him when he did — heavens above, the way she looked at him — made him think she did not mind it at all. "It would hurt me to lose you now."

Her expression softened. "Well I don't intend on going anywhere. So, for the foreseeable future, you're stuck with me."

He leaned back against the craggy, rock wall, crossing his arms over his chest as Hal back away, her expression shifting as a smile spread across her face. "Which reminds me: we have not yet had a moment to celebrate our newest villagers. Murtagh, we welcome you and Thorn as official members of the Tenariono Village." She bowed dramatically.

"You're not mad?"

She straightened, her smile gentle. "I admit, I was nervous you were doing this for me and the villagers. But Thorn indicated this was what you wanted. What you _both_ wanted. And as long as that statement holds true, then I am the happiest woman in the world."

His face was hot, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. Observing her bright smile, so radiant and carefree, her eyes lighting up with her joy. He felt his heart skip a beat. That he should be the cause of such an expression, that he should be fortunate to look upon it now.

He knew then that he would do whatever he could to preserve that smile.

"I'm feeling tense," Hal said suddenly, gazing up at the overcast sky. "What do you say we spar for a bit? Let off some steam?"

A perfect idea. He passed her his hand-and-a-half sword, watching her carefully as she used the words he had taught her to dull its edges. Murtagh did the same with Zar'roc. He had told himself that Hal would never touch the sword. Never be defiled by it. But she had insisted on practicing with blades when they improved beyond wooden sticks, their blows becoming so hard that they snapped under the weight. Murtagh eventually agreed.

They assumed their usual positions, Murtagh attacking first, feigning left before dropping and swinging for her hip. Hal blocked him, using the force of his blow to propel herself back, making sure to use her quickness to keep her balance as she gave herself space and time to recover before his next attack. That was one unique thing about her training: she would never best Murtagh on sheer strength alone. And as he had gotten stronger, so had his attacks. But she was light on her feet and as fast as they come. As they had trained early on — Hal learning as she had with Amon and the others — to use the strength and weight of her opponent to her advantage. And although he had years of experience compared to her, she was impressively skilled. With a proper teacher and enough time, she could be as good as, if not better than, he or Eragon. He grinned to himself, his spirits soaring with a single thought: now that he wasn't leaving, maybe he would get to see that moment for himself.

He supposed he had Denu to thank for her skills. She fought like a hunter, someone who was trained to listen, not just with their ears, and see, not just with their eyes. She had told him once that blades had a distinct sound when they cut through the air, which was how she often knew when he was trying to land a sneak attack. She didn't always catch him, simply because he was fast. But the fact that she was so accustomed to listening and observing gave her a strong advantage. And although he knew she was watching him, studying his movements and mannerisms whenever they fought, he found her gaze more tantalizing than perhaps it should be. And she moved like a hunter, not just a trained fighter, combining instinct, intuition, and sheer hard work and grit.

He still bested her, even if it was narrowly, much to her chagrin. But she persisted all the same, taking short breaks before insisting they continue. After a light lunch of greens and fruit, Hal was already up and waiting as he took another long pull of water. He watched her as she cracked her neck, walking around to loosen up the muscles in her body. She rotated the hilt of his sword in her hands like it was nothing, having finally begun to grow accustomed to the weight of it, although she still tired quickly. She had been baffled the first time she held it, more impressed with how he wielded it like it was a nothing more than an extension of his arm.

He forced himself to look away, feeling rather enchanted just watching her pace. And that unnerved him, how easily she distracted him. He rose to his feet and attacked without warning to surprise her. She barely got her sword up in time, her breath catching in surprise as his blows rained down on her. She managed to deflect it and stepped back as he thrusted towards her chest, swung for her side, and cut at her legs to trip her up. But she managed to hold him off, and he realized how proud he was of how far she had come. He smiled at her.

Despite how seriously she would often take her lessons, she smiled back.

The breaks increased as their arms grew leaden, sweat pouring down their backs, their hair and clothes clinging to them. When they finished another session, ending with Murtagh's blade parallel to Hal's neck, he said, "I say we call it a day. Before we both pass out from exhaustion."

Hal dropped to her knees, letting the sword clang to the ground. Murtagh could see that her arm was shaking from the exertion and he frowned. "Perhaps we did too much too fast."

"No," she panted. "No. I have to get stronger. As strong as you, so that I can fight."

Murtagh crouched down so that they were eye-to-eye. "Hal, I have had years of training, since I was boy. It is not fair for you to compare your skills to mine."

She shook her head. "It's not simply a comparison. I just feel like I'm not enough. If something were to happen…" She held her scarred hands in her lap, her gaze distance and pained. "It was bad enough, what the Ra'zac did to me. But now something is attacking my mind too? And how did they even find me? I feel violently exposed and afraid, especially now. Like I'm not learning quickly enough. Like I'm…weak."

Her practically spat out the last word, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. Murtagh placed a comforting hand on top of her head. She had always been eager to practice, but her sudden push for it after being out for so long made much more sense than a simple desire to 'let off steam.' "You have never been weak. And you are certainly not weak now. I know it's frustrating, I do. But these things take time. You have shown more heart and dedication than anyone I know. Do not doubt yourself now. And know this: I will do everything in my power to make sure no harm comes to you. _Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal_. Upon my word as a rider."

She seemed rather dazed, stunned and touched by the simple oath. Hal nodded as she placed her hand over his, clutching it tightly. "Thank you, Murtagh. Not just for this, for teaching me. But for being my friend. I don't know how I could do this without you, if I would even be alive. I'm so grateful you're staying. Not just because of this madness, but because…I _really_ would have missed you."

The sentiment warmed his heart, which beat madly under his tunic as she looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. He couldn't believe he had almost left this. Had almost left her. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead before pulling her forehead against his. "I could say the same thing about you, you know," he said.

She sighed, as though content. "I know."

He chuckled, squeezing her tightly one last time before they pulled apart. "Come on," he said, looking into her eyes, "let's head back so you can rest."

As they walked, Murtagh strayed a few feet behind, talking with Thorn who had chosen, for today, to remain at the village. _What do you think, Thorn? Perhaps I have been training her wrong, if she feels a lack of confidence in her skills._

 _I do not think she's implying your training is missing the mark — I think she would just tell you. I think it's only natural that she feels a need to improve quickly after such an attack. I'm curious though — I wonder what the men would say on the matter, considering she trained with them._

 _Fair point. Perhaps I will talk with Denu about it later. See what he thinks._

 _But now I must ask — do you think she's ready for more? You have covered much of the basics: simple defensive and attack spells and fighting techniques. And now that we are staying, there are more opportunities for us to advance her training. She is capable of more, I'm sure._

 _Of that I have no doubt._ Murtagh glanced at her up ahead. _I'll think about it. She does have a knack for magic despite having never been formally trained._

 _Could you imagine if she had been? With her instinct and intelligence, she would be a force to be reckoned with._

Murtagh snorted. _Have you not been paying attention_? He teased. _She already is._

He heard Hal yelp in surprise and his gaze focused, noticing her stiff stance, her hesitant steps backwards. He rushed forward, then blinked in surprise, easily catching what had startled her. He had completely forgotten, and she would have no way of knowing.

"It's all right, I don't think it'll hurt you."

"You don't think?!" she hissed quietly, continuing to retreat, passing him with a confused glare. "What the bloody hell is it?"

Murtagh chuckled. "That, Hal, is a spirit."

She paused, curiosity quickly transforming her features. "A spirit?"

"Aye. And, unless I am mistaken, it may be the same one that led us to you when the Ra'zac took you."

She looked at him. "You never mentioned that before."

"Never seemed to be a proper time. Admittedly, I also forgot."

She snorted. "For shame, rider." She ignored his look of reproach. "Is it going to move so that we may pass?"

Strangely enough, the spirit was just floating there as if it had no idea they were even present. It seemed to unnerve Hal even further, much to Murtagh's amusement, as she exclaimed, "It's like it's looking at me."

"Perhaps you've angered it and it means to attack you."

"I will poison your meal tonight, do not test me, rider."

However, Murtagh barely heard her. As his gaze focused on the spirit, he felt a sudden sense of…urgency. Panicked urgency, at that. The skin on the back of his neck prickled the longer he gazed at the spirit, feeling as though it was the cause of these strange emotions.

Run, they needed to run.

No, there was no time. They needed to hide.

"…it's just floating there," Hal was saying, resuming to back away slowly, just out of his reach.

"Halen, don't move."

She froze at the sound of her full name, knowing immediately he'd only used it as of late when he was angry or serious about something. She shot him a confused look, waiting for an explanation and opening her mouth when none came. Murtagh held out his hand to silence her, his mind racing as he put together the words in the Ancient Language, speaking quickly.

 _Don't move, don't speak_ , he said, touching her mind.

 _Murtagh —_

They both froze as they heard sounds of someone approaching. The spirit slowly vanished, but Murtagh had a sinking feeling it was not gone. They waited with baited breath for what felt like several long moments as a figure suddenly appeared from the shadows of where they had just been headed. Hal's eyes went wide with fear, and even he could see the tears that filled them as a Ra'zac crawled across the ground towards them, sniffing with desperation.

He couldn't touch her mind, not when he needed to focus on the shields he had put up around them to make sure they could not be detected. She covered her mouth with her hands as she closed her eyes, and he knew what she was seeing. What she was hearing and feeling. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her. And the fact that he couldn't made him seethe.

The Ra'zac moved with a meticulously slow pace, like it had known they were around here somewhere. And as it drew closer, he could see Hal begin to tremble, the tears beginning to fall as it approached her. It was inhaling deep pulls of air, like it recognized her scent.

 _You sssmell like our massster_.

That's what the Ra'zac from before had kept repeating. Hal's scent drew them to her like honey to a bee. But why was the smell so important? Why did her scent indicate to the Ra'zac she was capable of magic?

Murtagh began to grow weak, the amount of magic it was taking to hide as much of their presence taking its toll. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead, his body shaking with exertion. He was stronger now than he had been months ago, though, and he would see to it that the shields remained, if only for Hal's sake.

The Ra'zac had gotten closer now, sniffing at her feet, close to her physical form. Even though Murtagh was hiding them, his shields would do nothing if the creature ran right into her. But he had not mastered non-verbal spells, and he dared not risk opening his mouth and giving them away. Not when it was so close to Hal.

 _Look at me_ , he silently begged her. _Just look at me. To me, Halen._

As if hearing him — had she heard him? — Hal's teary gaze went to him. The creature sniffed up her back and she closed them again, gritting her teeth so tightly he feared she would break her jaw. Despite the toll this was taking on him, his only concern was for her. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. He steeled his gaze, trying to convey to her that nothing was going to happen, that she was safe. He would not let the Ra'zac take her again.

He saw her swallow, licking her lips nervously, as the Ra'zac seemed to discern nothing out of the ordinary, sniffing its way through the trail Hal had left, back the way they had come. They waited several more minutes, to make sure it didn't circle back and surprise them. When it didn't reappear, Murtagh released the magic and Hal rushed forward to catch him as his knees gave out underneath him. The feel of her was a comfort, her hands on his face as she pushed his hair from his face.

"You are so unbelievably reckless," she snapped, her tears of concern giving away where her true feelings lay — although he had no doubt she was cross with him.

"I had few options, and even less time."

She shook her head at him. "How long will you continue to use my own words against me?"

"As long as it allows me to win an argument with you, which I rarely get the opportunity to do." He struggled to sit up straight, not wanting to put all of his weight on her. She remained close, but allowed him to move about independently.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded stiffly, smart enough not to mention that he would have been well off had he not spent so much energy sparring right before. "I'm sure I'll sleep soundly tonight, but I'll be fine." He raised his brow. "What about you?"

She hid her face. "I'm suddenly not as tired."

He nodded in understanding. Before he could respond, however, they heard an animalistic scream from the same direction the Ra'zac had gone. Hal whipped out her bow and arrow, crouching protectively in front of Murtagh before he could even lift his arm to grab his sword. He unsheathed it slowly, unsure if the sound was the Ra'zac being attacked, or the Ra'zac attacking something else.

It wasn't long before a tall figure appeared, stepping gracefully out of the thicket. Murtagh's eyes widened at the sight before him, and he heard Hal inhale sharply. He could understand her surprise, for he had a hard time processing what he was seeing, but familiarity prickled his skin. So much so that when Hal tightened his grip on her bow, preparing to shoot, he threw his hand out and stopped her.

"Have you lost your damn mind, rider?!"

"Don't — I don't think he's our enemy." To the elf he shouted, "Are you?"

The elf paused, and Murtagh was sure he was an elf, albeit a strange one. Instead of skin, he was covered in thick azure fur that gleamed beautifully in the sun. His eyes were a sharp yellow, hawkish in nature. And as he stepped closer, they both realized that he wore little more than a loincloth, to which Hal gave a strangled, "Oh my," before raising her gaze towards the tops of the trees. Murtagh blinked, having a slight inkling of seeing him with Eragon before Galbatorix had been killed — as they had entered the castle. Or perhaps on a battlefield.

"I am not, Murtagh Morzansson. My lady, I did not mean to startle you. My companion and I spotted the Ra'zac and, after slaying the beast, came to make sure it had not harmed any others."

As he spoke, a thin-faced female elf walked out of the brush to join him, sheathing a blade at her hip as she did so. She acknowledged them politely with a slight tilt of her head, but otherwise said nothing.

"My name is Blödhgarm, son of Ildrid the Beautiful," the elf said smoothly, his smile kind yet unnerving all the same. "I come on behalf of Eragon Shadeslayer. Murtagh, your brother is quite worried about you."


	29. Chapter 29: An Enemy Revealed

**A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to thank those of you who are reading, reviewing, and following this story. Just know I read every comment and they have meant the world to me. I hope you all continue to enjoy. Happy reading!**

* * *

Hal glanced around the table, wondering if this was as uncomfortable for everyone else as it was for her. Well the elves seemed at ease. They had spent the better part of half-an-hour marveling at the clay hut and lemongrass tea, which they politely sipped on. Denu, although he could not see, had been rather quiet since Hal told him that they had company over. And that they were elves. The man, Blödhgarm, had been especially enthralled with Denu's lack of sight but enhanced senses elsewhere.

Murtagh looked positively exhausted, his eyes dropping and his skin sallow from the burden of the magic. Hal's eyes kept wandering to him with concern, yet she also couldn't take her eyes off Blödhgarm either. Not just because of his appearance, although that was, by-and-large, the main reason why. There was also a strange musk around him, one she couldn't quite place. It smelled of pine, firewood, and eucalyptus, dazzling her senses completely. It was as though, the longer she looked, the more she wanted to just…be near him, which was absurd.

And yet…

Murtagh suddenly — and loudly — cleared his throat, and Hal's eyes darted to him once more, flashing a look of irritation that he pointedly returned. "It's getting late," he said slowly. "There is much to tell you and Eragon. But it can wait until morning."

"Eragon stated that he would prefer an update as soon as we found you," Blödhgarm stated with a small smile. "If it would be of no concern, we'd rather do it now than wait any longer. He's eager to hear from you."

Hal still couldn't believe Murtagh had not talked to his brother in the several months he'd been on the island. At least not that she was aware of based on what the elf was saying. She would certainly give him an earful of her own on the matter later. But a protectiveness settled itself in her chest and she blushed, thankful no one could see as she spoke. "Actually, if I may…"

"Why of course," Blödhgarm said. "We are merely guest, sent by Eragon to assist Murtagh. As you have been the one taking care of him, offering your home and services to see to his health and well-being, it is only natural that we offer you our services as well. Eragon would insist."

Her face was hot, and she ignored the obvious roll of the eyes from Murtagh as she continued. "Murtagh used a great deal of magic earlier to protect me from the predator you slayed," she said carefully, her eyes darting over to Denu to indicated to the elves that he was not privy to the Ra'zac, and that she wanted to keep it that way. "And this was after working all day. He's stubborn, but I know he's exhausted." He grunted, but didn't protest. "Perhaps you could let Eragon know that he will contact him first thing in the morning." She gave Murtagh a smile that was anything but sweet. "I'll personally see to it that he does."

He glowered at her from across the table and she raised a brow, challenging him to say something. He didn't.

Blödhgarm chuckled at the silent exchange. "Very well. We are happy to relay the message."

"Thank you," Hal breathed. "For everything," she added, realizing she hadn't thanked them properly for killing the Ra'zac either.

"It was our pleasure, my lady," he said, grinning so that his fangs showed. She shivered. How utterly bizarre.

She had no idea how she was going to explain their sudden appearance. Oh, the villagers were going to lose their minds if they found out. They had no space in the hut, but Blödhgarm insisted they would be fine on their own in the woods. Of that, based on how Murtagh had described elves, Hal had no doubt. But she still felt rather bad that she could not offer them more. They preferred to prepare their own meals, citing that they did not eat meat, which completely caught her by surprise. She had never heard of such a thing. But she wasn't an elf, and so she didn't question it. She directed them to a spot near the village that overflowed with edible greens, fruits, and freshwater and they thanked her graciously, promising to stay away from the villagers so as to not cause a scene.

By the time they were gone for the night, she had bathed, and she had gotten Denu settled, Murtagh was asleep on his cot when she went to check on him. Figures. She quietly cleaned up the area so that he wouldn't trip over anything should he awake in the middle of the night. She found that her head felt much clearer with Blödhgarm now gone, and she wondered if he was working some kind of magic spell over her, or if she was simply enthralled by his appearance. She would have to ask him in the morning if she got the chance.

She covered the torch, pitting the room in darkness. Once her eyes adjusted, she crept to Murtagh's cot, sitting on the edge, and set about unlacing his boots, pulling them off his feet. She certainly hoped he got enough sleep. After what he did today…his magic never ceased to amaze her. And he was almost never at his full capacity when he used it. By comparison, she sometimes struggled with the most basic of spells, her magic weakened by her own self-doubt.

She heard the change in his breathing as she set his boots to the side, and felt his hand grip the material of her nightgown. She turned to face him, his bleary, grey eyes already on her. "Are you still not tired?"

She smiled sadly. "Still not tired," she confirmed. "But don't worry about me. Just get some rest."

"I know you are a strong, fearsome, and capable woman," he said, his voice low and gravelly in a way that made her stomach flutter. He began to pull on her skirt as he spoke, and she chuckled, shaking her head as she followed his directive and sat down on the edge. "So please do not take offense when I say that I still cannot help but worry about you. Especially right now." In a surprisingly tender moment, he pushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek and making her skin feel even hotter. "I can see the fear in your eyes. I know what you're thinking. And I don't want your mind to wander to such places."

She could see it in his face that he wanted her to talk to him — wanted Hal to speak openly and honestly about what she saw when she closed her eyes. She had never truly elaborated on what happened to her in that cave, and still had little desire to do so. Yet part of her did want to unburden herself, hoped that it might ease some of what still lingered, what the sight of the Ra'zac today had reawakened.

She turned her head quickly, not realizing she had begun to cry and not wanting him to see. Of course it was too late, and as she struggled to hide her tears, Murtagh sat up slowly. "Oh Hal."

"Do not worry about me, please. Lie back down." He didn't listen. Sometimes it felt like he never did. And she told him this as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Such gestures still felt strange to her, but never unwarranted like she would have expected. He was like a wall when one was exhausted: sturdy, reliable to lean on for rest and support. She could feel his muscles rippling underneath his tunic that he had yet to change, his heart beating against her back.

Soon enough, Hal allowed herself to relax, fully leaning into his embrace. She felt him breathe once, as if relieved. She was still surprised by his more affectionate moments, when he put all of his energy into her well-being for reasons she could not fathom. Even before they had become so close, there had been flashes of it. But she was equally surprised by how much she responded to them, physically and mentally.

The feeling of being cocooned by him felt like lying under a thick blanket, and Hal felt safe. Safe in his arms. Safe by his side. It was, perhaps, the only reason she had not completely lost her mind when the Ra'zac had appeared, because when something told her to look at him, his eyes had born into hers as if to say she would be okay. To reassure her that no matter what happened, he would protect her.

And for that, she was grateful. And ashamed.

Staring at the wall, her tongue thick and her heart heavy with emotions, she closed her eyes and said, "Seeing it again, after all this time…it suddenly felt like my attack was yesterday. Everything that I had felt in that cave…and the attack on my mind felt so similar. Like I was trapped in darkness, with no chance of escape…" Her voice caught and she wipe gritted her teeth, ducking her head to hide a fresh wave of tears even though Murtagh couldn't see. He didn't speak, waiting patiently for her to regain her composure and continue. "Everything I had felt in that cave, the _helplessness_ , the thoughts that I would rather die than endure such pain ever again, consumed me. I swear, it even felt like my hands were cramping in all the spots where my bones had been broken and I don't know, maybe the attack on my mind frazzled me more than I expected. But despite all of your efforts to teach me, had you not been there today, I don't know what I would have done. I saw it and my mind went completely blank. And I'm so _angry_ that it has such a hold over me. I hate that it makes me so afraid."

His grip had tightened on her as she spoke and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She wiped her face, sniffling and feeling utterly ridiculous and pathetic. The exact opposite of what Murtagh had claimed her to be just moments before.

"It's like that for me too sometimes," he said in a low voice. "And for Thorn. I could be fine, doing absolutely nothing of importance or perhaps talking with someone and I hear something, or they say something that suddenly takes me back to those chambers where we were beaten and broken. Nothing but his dogs to serve at his command. Of course, my own shame comes when I think of whether I could've fought harder, been less cruel to others as a result of my own failings."

"You do get this far away look sometime," Hal confirmed in a low voice, knowing it well. She had figured he was thinking about the past, but had never wanted to ask and be sure, in case the topic was uncomfortable for him.

She could feel him nodding. "As do you. Once you stopped in the middle of doing laundry — do you remember? Took me forever to get your attention. I often wonder where you go when you are not here."

Uden, she thought to herself. Or that cave.

"You don't have to tell me," he reminded her gently. "But just remember that Thorn and I are here when you wish to talk. When you feel that you are _ready_ to talk."

She nodded slowly, and his arms dropped from her waist, and she felt rather exposed without his embrace. But he moved so that she may stand on her own two feet, and she straightened her nightgown before turning to look at him.

"Does it not bother you, that you can talk to me so freely and yet I share almost nothing with you?"

He gave her a look that was all the answer she needed, but she still wanted to hear it from his mouth, in his own words. He pushed his hair from his face, and she quietly vowed to trim his ends later. "It doesn't bother me," he said, and she could hear the truth in his voice. "If anything, sometimes I feel guilty — like perhaps I'm sharing too much. Overburdening you."

"I don't mind it," she said quickly, not wanting him to presume she was upset by it. "I like that you feel as though you can trust me with such truths."

"I don't 'feel' as though I can trust you, Hal. I do trust you. Perhaps that is why you cannot share these things with me yet. They do require a level of trust that takes years to establish."

She shook her head. "I do trust you." She sat down on the edge of his cot again, facing him this time. "Today, when the Ra'zac appeared and I was scared out of my mind, something told me to look at you. And when I did, I felt almost safe. I knew that you would do anything in your power to protect me. But it wasn't enough to just know it, I felt it, in my heart and my bones and my muscles, that you would fight for me, if it came to that. I trust you, implicitly, rider." She smiled, hesitating, but feeling bold enough to press her fingers to his cheek, then laying her palm on the smooth skin. She was hardly ever so intrepid, yet she felt that he, while still adjusting to it as well, did not mind such soft touches. She thought of his expression when she had first kissed his cheek, how stunned he had seemed at something that Hal had received her entire life. And his expression now seemed similar under her touch.

"It is hard not to feel safe with someone whose voice called to you, and brought you back from the brink of death," she added quietly. "I am grateful to you, Murtagh. For so many things. Please, never forget that." He nodded, eyes piercing even in the dark. She smiled sardonically. "I'm especially grateful to you now that you've stayed. I wonder how long it would have taken before you stopped checking in with me during your travels."

He huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I bloody _knew_ you would bring this up."

"I can't believe you haven't checked in with Eragon in months. You probably worried him sick."

"I had a good reason," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh well, then please, do tell." Hal stared at him expectantly, and he carefully avoided her gaze before mumbling something under his breath. "Use your outside voice, rider."

He glared at her again, then sighed and said, "I thought I was protecting you."

Her stance softened a bit in surprise. "Protecting…? From Eragon?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I was concerned that if I told him that I had found you, told him the truth of the Ra'zac, that he would tell someone I didn't want to know. Someone like the queen. I even convinced Thorn that I could handle it. So that your life, and that of the villagers', would not face further disruption. And after that…"

"Let me guess, you forgot?"

He pressed his lips together tightly in an effort not to laugh, but Hal did not. Murtagh was shaking his head. "I can't believe he sent bloody elves to find me."

"Don't be mean, he was worried about you."

Murtagh looked at her. "Well if it is any consolation, if I had chosen to leave, I would have never forgotten to check in with you."

"That's because I'm more interesting than Eragon," she said teasingly, fluttering her lashes at him.

"And much prettier," he added.

His gaze was too intent to be anything less than serious, and Hal hid her pleased, flustered smile by turning her head as though to laugh. She momentarily couldn't find the words to speak, but eventually covered herself by returning his gaze. "Careful rider," she said teasingly. "Any more presumptuous flattery of that regard and you'll give the people something to talk about."

He snorted and Hal laughed to release the tension in her chest. She rose to her feet once more. "I'll see you in the morning, rider."

She knew he was exhausted. By the time she finished resetting the room, he was out. As she watched him sleep, something in her chest unfurled, slowly. A bit of warmth, a bit of strength, she had not felt in quite some time. He always looked so at ease lately when he slept, like he had peace of mind. And she wanted that for him, desperately, she was surprised to find. All he had done for her. The laughter and joy and friendship he had given her these last few months had taken her by surprise, but she cherished them all the same.

She took one last look at his lingering face, committing it to memory. A surge of protectiveness swarmed her, and she vowed to up her training. She would study longer, fight harder, and learn faster. So that she could be the one putting up the shields. So that she could finally begin to fight back, reclaiming not just her life, but his as well. She didn't want him fighting such battles. Not when he had been swinging swords all his life, looking over his shoulder. She had wanted him to stay by her side, and he had for reasons she had yet to ask. But he had stayed.

She would fight for them all. Not just for her village. For Murtagh and Thorn too. She would claw her way through the muck if she had to, face the nightmares and fight them through her tears if she must. But these people were all she had. She would die before she let anyone or anything take such joys from her again.

…

Hal was sweating, her arms heavy with exhaustion as she swung Murtagh's hand-and-a-half sword over her head, practicing the steps, thrusts, and blocks that Murtagh had taught her, committing the movements to memory. She was submerged in water up to her waist, using the resistance to build her strength. She was tired, but she pushed herself to continue, knowing that she would reap the benefits of her efforts in a couple of months.

She had slipped out before the sun broke across the sky, wanting as much time to practice on her own before her attention and time was commandeered by chores, the villagers, and their newest companions. She paused in thought, ignoring how her arms began to shake the longer she held the sword before her. She did not know what to make of the elves — she felt wary and intrigued by them. But Murtagh did not seem pressed, so she pushed the thoughts aside for now to focus on something she actually could control.

Suddenly, her vision temporarily faded out and she felt lightheaded. Hal stumbled, struggling to keep her balance as the sword slipped from her grasp. She fell, only just cognizant enough to sway to the side so that she did not impale herself on the blade by accident. But her limbs felt locked as she hit the water, unable to move as she sank to the muddy bottom.

And just as quickly as it had come, the fit had passed. It took Hal a few moments to realize she had control of her body again, but before she could move, pale arms were reaching into the water and pulling her out with little effort. Hal gasped as she broke the surface, coughing up water as the female elf pulled her to the grassy bank. Her thin brows were pressed with concern as Hal turned and coughed up water in the grass.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked carefully, her voice very no-nonsense, yet not harsh either.

"I-I think so." She wasn't quite sure herself what had even happened. There was a slight pulse behind her eyes, like a minor headache. Nothing to indicate what had caused her to seize like she had. Perhaps a lingering side-effect of the attack on her mind. It had only been a few days, and the stress from the Ra'zac probably had not helped matters. "Were you following me?" Hal asked, realizing there was no way the elf had just stumbled upon her by accident.

"I've been with you since you left the village. It's not wise to wander on your own not knowing if more Ra'zac lurk in the woods."

Hal's eyes narrowed. "Did the rider set you up to this?"

"I came of my own free will."

Hal looked the woman over carefully, unnerved by the fact that she, who was often perceptive enough to hear even the smallest of critters, had no idea the elf was tailing her the entire time.

"When you did not rise from the water, I came to your aid immediately. Do you often have spells like that?"

Hal shook her head. "Thank you, for your help. And for killing that Ra'zac yesterday."

The woman nodded before helping Hal carefully to her feet. She also retrieved Murtagh's sword from the water, offering to carry it despite Hal's protests that she was fine. "We should head back now," was all the woman said, and Hal felt little inclination to argue with her.

…

Murtagh was standing with Thorn and Blödhgarm when Hal and the female elf appeared. When he took in the slow pace with which Hal walked, as if she were pained, and her soaked clothes, he quickly closed the distance between them.

"I'm fine," Hal said immediately, knowing the question before he could ask it.

"You don't look fine, Hal. You're soaked."

"She collapsed suddenly," the elf said with a non-committal expression, ignoring Hal's look of irritation. "She had a fit of some kind."

His wide eyes went back to Hal who steadily avoided his gaze. "A fit? Like the one from the other day?"

"If this is a health concern, I recommend she not travel alone."

"It's not a health concern," Hal snapped quickly. "And I'll travel whenever and wherever I like."

"Hal, there could be more Ra'zac out there," Murtagh argued.

"Those woods are my haven. I will not let my fear of them take that from me too."

He licked his lips, his resolve crippling the longer he looked into the fire in her eyes. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, I want to know what happened."

"May I at least change first?"

Murtagh nodded and Hal ducked her head, as if embarrassed, as she rushed past them into the hut. The female elf addressed him without looking at him. "You've been teaching her to fight, _Shur'tugal_ ," the woman commented. When Murtagh gave her a curious expression, the woman added, "She had been practicing ever since she left the village. Which was very early this morning, I might add."

"You were with her?"

"I observed from a distance."

It was all she would say on the matter, which was fine with him. He felt a little better that Hal hadn't been on her own, but something told him the elf likely cared little for his gratitude. Her stoic features were that of someone who saw to her duties without question or complaint, and he would certainly not interfere so long as Hal was safe.

"Is everything with the lady all right?" Blödhgarm asked as Murtagh and the woman approached.

"It's…a long story," Murtagh grunted, pushing his hair back from his face.

"Then perhaps it is time for us to get in touch with Eragon."

…

"Murtagh tells me he's been teaching you a bit of magic and swordsmanship," Blödhgarm commented casually. "How do you find your lessons?"

Hal swallowed thickly, her cheeks burning as she gripped the straps of her bag tightly, fighting not to lean in to the spectacular-looking elf and take a deep breath. The same scents as yesterday still seemed to linger around him, and she felt almost dizzy with it.

"They're good," she responded, unable to meet his gaze and bashfully staring at the ground. "Murtagh is a wonderful teacher. I've enjoyed learning from him."

"Is that so? If you don't mind me asking, what all has he managed to cover?"

"Oh, umm…" But she struggled to think beyond the cloudiness in her mind. The odor was so enticing, and she could not help but think of laying out in the grass with a book and a cool breeze, or riding with Nani in the early mornings. And the permeating smell of eucalyptus and pine continued to stretch in the background of her mind with each passing thought, soothing yet arousing at the same time.

"Are you familiar with horehound, lady," he asked suddenly, a polite smile on his face that showed off his fangs.

Hal blinked. "Please, just call me Halen. And no, I'm not. What is it?"

"A plant with a particularly acidic taste. It counters the smell that follows me because of my appearance."

Hal's face burned as she froze in place. She was utterly mortified that he had known and she had no idea what to say.

"Do not be alarmed, you are not the first woman it has affected."

"It only effects women?" She asked suspiciously, eyeing him carefully as if he meant to trap her, like a fly drawn to the scent of a plant that meant to eat it. She rushed forward to keep up with him and his rather effortless strides.

"I do not mean any harm by it. When I took this appearance, the musk came with it like it would for many predators seeking to find a mate."

Hal blushed even harder. "Is that your intention or are you annoyed to have women buzzing about you all the time?"

He laughed. "Admittedly I am not usually around human women, so I do not think of it often. Elven women, like Invidia," he gestured to the woman ahead of them and Hal was grateful to finally have a name, "don't notice it. Nor do men."

"Well," Hal added teasingly, "there are many things men do not notice so that is no surprise."

Blödhgarm laughed again. "I suppose you are right. Well when you both are able, ask the Dragon Rider to place a ward over you that blocks my scent. I think you'll find yourself more clearheaded and my presence more tolerated."

"Can you not do it?"

He smiled, leaning in close as if telling her a secret, and whispered, "I can. But I fear the wrath of Morzansson if I lay a hand on you, even if it's for your own good."

"What do you mean? He wouldn't —"

"I can tell that he is very protective of you," the elf clarified. "If only because he has been staring daggers into the back of my head since we left the village."

Hal bit her lower lip, unsure if she could take Blödhgarm at his word. Yet, when she glanced over her shoulder, she found that Murtagh was, indeed, looking quite put out and glaring at them. When he caught Hal's incredulous gaze, he turned his head.

Unbelievable.

She shook her head, torn between annoyance and amusement. But she pushed the thoughts from her mind for now. "Would it be all right if I asked you a question?"

The elf tilted his head as if pondering her question. "Am I right to assume you have more than one?"

"You are, but I will refrain from bogging you down with my curiosity. The only person I have met who can tolerate it is Murtagh — although I'm sure he wishes for my silence at times as well."

Blödhgarm gave her a kind smile. "I would not be so sure about that."

Before she could ask her question however, the woman, Invidia, stopped and turned around, nodding to Blödhgarm as if to say they had reached the spot she had been leading them to. The male elf stepped away, and Hal began to feel more herself. Remembering what she had been told, she turned to Murtagh as Thorn landed near his rider, the ground trembling under Hal's feet as he brought with him a rush of air. The man carefully avoided her gaze, and amusement won out at his bashful expression.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Hal began, trying to keep a teasing smile off her face as she neared him, clasping her hands behind her back. He grunted to show he was listening. "Blödhgarm claims that the musk that surrounds him due to his appearance has a tendency to affect women. It clouds my judgement. He says that you may place wards over me to prevent this from happening?"

Murtagh blinked, and she could not help but notice how his shoulders seemed to relax at her words. "Yes, of course. Come here."

Hal stood before him, trying to meet his gaze. "Is something else bothering you?"

"You could've been hurt today," he said in a low voice, getting straight to the point. "You could've died, had Invidia not been there. Why would you go off on your own so early in the morning? Invidia said you were practicing?"

Hal tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the hair braided and left to hang past her neck. Although the day was not as hot as it had been, the curls were almost dry. "I was."

"Why did you not wake me? I would've gone with you."

"You needed to rest. And I needed to practice so that I can actually improve."

"You are improving."

"You're just saying that —"

"I'm _not_ ," he stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. With the muscle he had gained the past few months, his broad shoulders, and serious expression, he almost looked intimidating. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Hal didn't respond. She couldn't.

"Exactly," he said knowingly. "I know you're frustrated, Hal. I would be too. But until we know what we're up against, we've got to tread carefully. You can't be wandering around on your own."

"I can't ask you to stop what you're doing every time I need to get out of the village," Hal argued. "I would feel like nothing more than a burden at _best_."

"You are not a burden."

"You say that now but you might not think so morning after morning of me practicing in the woods."

He frowned. "Have you been practicing morning after morning?"

"Well that depends."

He raised a single brow at her. "On?"

"On whether or not I shouldn't have been."

He failed to hide his smile, shaking his head at her. "Start waking me up," he said sternly, and he didn't look away until Hal promised. He set the wards over her, and when Blödhgarm finally called them over, she found that she could, indeed, stand near him without losing her senses.

"Ready?" the elf asked Murtagh.

The rider nodded. "Let's get this over with."

…

Hal sat with Thorn while Murtagh, Invidia, and Blödhgarm spoke with Eragon first using a mirror that the elves had created with magic. She hadn't been able to see the Dragon Rider for herself from her spot, but she finally gave up and waited for them to finish.

 _You seem bored, Hal_ , Thorn commented with amusement.

 _And you're not? If I had known they were just going to stand there and talk I would've made myself useful back in the village._ She laid back in the warm grass, turning her head to look at Thorn who stared back. _What was Eragon like, in your opinion? Murtagh does not always seem…fond of his brother._

The dragon sighed. _A difficult question, as my interactions with him were brief and often entailed us fighting one another. But he is a good man. There was a moment where he could've killed Murtagh, but he didn't. He showed him mercy. And for that, I will always be grateful._

 _As am I. I'm glad you both are here._

 _As are we._

"Hal."

She turned her head to find Murtagh looking over at her. She gave him a questioning look, knowing what he was asking even though he had not said anything. He nodded, giving her a soft smile to ease her mind. She rose carefully to her feet, mindful not to trip over her skirt. She was unsure why she suddenly felt nervous. Murtagh had spoken of his half-brother in rather simple detail, strained, like it hurt to think about him. He had shown her flashes of him when he was in her mind, but this felt…different. Like a legend come to life.

Murtagh must've sensed her nervousness, because he placed a comforting hand at the small of her back as she neared, moving to the side so that she may face the mirror. She blinked at the face before her. And the face blinked right back, equally surprised. But just that quickly, he masked his features and smiled. "You must be Halen."

"And you must be Eragon. It's nice to finally meet you."

"The feeling is mutual. Murtagh told me how you two met. I wish I could thank you in-person for saving his life and for taking care of him all this time."

"I should be thanking you," Hal said bashfully at his kindness. "He and Thorn have been good to me and my people. We're happy to have them here. Something that, according to my understanding, wouldn't have happened without your insistence."

Eragon looked happy to hear that. "I hear much has happened these last few months. Murtagh explained some of it from his perspective but, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear from you as well."

Hal looked at Murtagh, who nodded his encouragement. She turned back to Eragon in the mirror, speaking slowly and carefully, first of her village's growing issue with the lovuk months before she had even found Murtagh and Thorn. Her tale seemed far-fetched, even to her own ears. And yet the fact that it was true made her heart heavy. So much had indeed happened in such a short amount of time.

When she got to her torture by the Ra'zac, she began to stumble over her words, trying to speak without remembering. Trying to keep her voice neutral and unaffected. Murtagh quickly touched the back of her hand as Eragon said, "Murtagh has explained what happened. Do not stress yourself for my benefit. And do know that you have my deepest apologies for what you endured."

She nodded, grateful that Murtagh did not immediately move his hand, sensing her unease. It took her a few moments to regain her composure — to bring her mind out of the cave and back to the forest. Without thinking, she grabbed Murtagh's hand to ground her, and he squeezed back without question. She felt rather silly, how anxious it still made her. How frightened. But no one made a single insensitive comment or gave her a pitying look, only ones of patience. For that, she was relieved.

Relaying the attack on her mind was harder, because it still didn't make sense, not even to her. It had been so sudden and unexpected — and she had yet to figure out how whoever was behind it know to attack her specifically. She recalled as much of the details as she could, especially when she was able to push back. Perhaps they would all be able to make sense of it. For the first time, Hal realized she was talking with two elves and two Dragon Riders. And she was struck once again by how quickly her life had changed.

"It was strange," she finished, her gaze distant as she relived what it felt like to be in the other person's mind — at least that is where she presumed to have gone. "I was surrounded by what felt like hundreds of voices, screaming and wailing as if in pain and in bloodlust. It was…frightening. But there was one, like a…like a…" She struggled for the right word, and then an image flashed into her mind. A creature that had warned her and Murtagh of the approaching Ra'zac. And Murtagh had said it was called a —

"Spirits," she said, snapping her fingers together. "Or souls, something like that. I told Murtagh voices, but they had too much of a presence as well. The one that warned me that she — whoever she is — was coming was a voice. But when I was being attacked, it felt like hundreds of souls, distinct yet…strong. And there was one who seemed almost frightened, like it was hiding. Do you know what it could…be?" She blinked. "Have I done something wrong?"

When Hal was done talking, both Eragon and Murtagh looked like they had aged several years. "You're sure of this, Halen," Eragon pressed. "You would describe the presence you felt as hundreds of souls, not just voices?"

"Yes."

"You're absolutely sure," Murtagh stressed, looking almost pained. "You said voices the first time you told me what happened, but now you're positive it was souls or spirits."

"Yes. I don't know how I can explain my confidence, but it just feels right. They felt like whole beings, just without a physical body."

"Demons above and below," Murtagh groaned.

"Halen, you're sure?" Invidia asked.

"Yes," she breathed, second-guessing herself because of the number of times they had asked her the same question. "Please, just tell me — what's this all about? What's going on?"

"Eragon," Murtagh began, his voice tight.

"Yes, I know."

"There's not one on the island, I know that for a fact. Thorn has been diligent in his flights, we've checked for wards. There's nothing, not even a hint of the Ra'zac despite the one the managed to catch us off guard yesterday."

"We have not sensed anything since arriving either," Blödhgarm added.

"Which means they're not on the island?"

"And yet they can attack her mind? It makes no sense! Even if they were just one island over, that level of magic —"

"I know," Eragon repeated, his voice solemn.

"Shit," Murtagh hissed, releasing her hand as he began to pace in a nerve-wracking manner. Then he suddenly shouted, punching a nearby tree, causing Hal to jump.

Eragon did not miss her reaction. "All right, that's enough, Murtagh. Remember where you are."

Hal took a shaky breath as Murtagh's eyes darted over to her, some of the fight leaving his shoulders. She looked between the two, waiting for someone to say something.

"I'm confused," she admitted, her voice shaking. "Did I do something wrong?"

Murtagh's demeanor softened, but his eyes remained troubled. "No. No, you did everything right. I just…"

"We're realizing we are dealing with more than we expected," Eragon finished, his tone clipped in a failed attempt to hide his concern. "A Shade."

"The being, with the many souls you encountered," Blödhgarm clarified. "When you used magic to turn their attack against them, you somehow found entry into their mind instead."

"I had almost an exact experience with another Shade named Durza years ago," Eragon said grimly, clearly troubled by the memory. "It is not a pleasant experience, what you endured. I know."

Blödhgarm continued. "The multiple souls you encountered is the result of sorcery creating a Shade. It's the only explanation that fits."

"Sorcery," Hal stated slowly, recalling her earlier lessons with Murtagh surrounding the different types of magic. "That's magic that uses spirits to do its bidding?"

"Aye," said Eragon. "But the nature of a Shade is much more malevolent. It entails the act of souls possessing the body of a living being. Because the very nature of possession is rooted in evil, so is the creature it creates. Shades are dangerous, even to dragon riders. They have a prowess that could match even the Ra'zac in inhuman speed and strength. But they are deadlier the stronger they become over time, because they can use magic and they can only be killed by a shot through the heart. Nothing more, nothing less."

To know that there was something worse than the Ra'zac…of course there had to be, if they had succumbed to it. But for perhaps the two most powerful people Hal had ever met — which wasn't saying much, but she supposed their past spoke for itself — and two elves to look this concerned. And then she recalled the pain of the souls she had encountered. How she had felt overwhelmed with thoughts of bloodlust and violence. And she felt her throat squeeze, struggling not to let panic overwhelm her as she struggled to speak.

"There are people on this island," she whispered. "Not just my village, but others as well. Are they safe? Are we safe? Am I —?" The last question died on her lips, and Murtagh's gaze hardened.

Silence. She knew, from promises they could not make because they could not be kept.

Memories, of another village that had burned because of her. And now she had brought danger to Illium. The thought of more Ra'zac appearing on the island, appearing in her village, was horrifying enough after what had been done to Eli and to her. But something worse was out there — how far would a Shade go to get what it wanted? To get her? And what would happen to her if it succeeded? She couldn't survive another torture. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Enduring that again would push her to insanity. But would it torture her or did it want her dead? Was that worse than if it wanted her alive? Did it even want her?

She could feel the panic rising in her chest, the same sensation she felt in the middle of one of her nightmares. Her heart was racing under her clothes, making it impossible to catch her breath. Pained tears began to pinch her eyes and she mumbled something incoherent, trying to say she needed a minute but doubting the words came out as such. She struggled to stay on her feet, shaking in terror as she tried to distance herself from the others before she completely lost her composure.

Of course, Murtagh stopped her before she got far. Standing in front of her with a stern look on his face, his hands gripping her arms and holding her steady. "Get it out of your mind, Hal."

"I just need a minute to myself."

"You need to breathe, Hal. If you keep panting at this rate, you'll pass out."

"I can't—"

"Look at me, Hal. Look at me." She soon raised her head, her chest heaving like she had just finished running at full speed around the entirety of the island. He took her face in his hands, just like he would if she were having a nightmare, inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly so that she mimicked him, until her breathing slowed and her tears of helplessness fell.

"It's looking for _me_ ," she seethed, a burning rage and helplessness competing for her emotions. "The Ra'zac might as well have said so themselves, and the attack on my mind only proves it."

"It proves nothing. And now, thanks to you, we at least know what we're up against. We've been flying blind for months. It's not the news we wanted, no, but I promise you, Hal, we're in a much better place knowing what we're fighting than knowing nothing at all."

It was hardly any comfort, this knowledge. "I just need a minute to myself," she repeated, her voice numb. She sidestepped him and he did not stop her as she forged ahead. She was sure she was being followed, perhaps by Invidia again. But she didn't turn to confirm it, caring very little about not having her privacy as she finally succumbed to her fears and collapsed to the ground.

…

There was a heavy silence as Murtagh watched Hal leave, her shoulders stiff as she struggled to save face. He wished, desperately, that she would let him in, even just a little. He had an inkling of what she was thinking, but he knew this information had to be overwhelming. Frightening even. And his outburst had not helped matters either.

"Will she be all right?" Eragon asked as Invidia, without any notion from anyone, left of her own accord to keep an eye on Hal.

Murtagh genuinely didn't know. There was much, he was realizing, that he didn't know about Hal. Her reservations, her tendency to keep certain matters and thoughts to herself, left his speculation up to the imagination. All he could confirm was, "She is perhaps one of the strongest people I know. Stubbornly so. She is shaken, but she will do anything for her people. She is not easily broken."

Eragon looked at him then. "You two have become close."

"She and her village have been good to Thorn and me," Murtagh commented, completely missing that Eragon had said it as a statement. "I have come to value their friendship and their kindness. These are good people, Eragon. Thorn and I will do everything in our power to protect them."

His half-brother looked at him with a delighted surprise. Scratching the back of his head, Eragon said, "I admit that I half thought you were spending all of this time avoiding me."

"I was."

But Eragon didn't take offense. Or he didn't notice, pressing on as if he hadn't heard. "It didn't occur to me that you had made a life for yourself there. I feel rather silly, because I had been planning on asking if you and Thorn would wish to join us when you left Illium." He gave Murtagh a pointed look. "But something tells me you wish to stay."

Murtagh found himself smiling. Despite the weeks of inner turmoil he had caused himself, the answer came much easily to him now. "I do."

Eragon nodded. "I figured as much. Here's what I was think —"

He paused, looking past Murtagh's shoulder. Murtagh turned around and breathed as Hal came stomping towards them. That fire was in her eyes, roaring with an intensity that he had never seen before. Her eyes were red, but otherwise all traces of her tears were gone.

"Tell me everything you know about Shades," she demanded, her tone reminding him of when they had first met, how hard it would get when she spoke with him. Steely. He shivered at it now, hearing the control he had not thought to hear before. The strength behind it. "What do they look like, how do they move, how does their magic work, their strengths, their weaknesses, their speed, everything. If there is something you deem irrelevant, tell me anyway, and then some."

Murtagh could not help but grin, feeling that as long as she was fighting, she would be okay. Eragon looked stunned, then smiled. "Yes ma'am."

They spoke for what felt like hours. No, it _was_ hours. The sun rose to its peak then began to sink as they went in circles about defensive tactics, different combinations of the Ancient Language they could use to construct various wards and shields around the village. Hal had grown quiet here, listening attentively and absorbing as much information as she could. Murtagh looked to her occasionally, finding her gaze focused as she struggled to keep up, but keep up she did. She never hesitated to ask questions, taking advantage of the opportunity to further her learning.

Occasionally, she rose from her spot to stretch her legs, pacing behind them or leaving with Invidia to find fruits and nuts for everyone to snack on. Murtagh was grateful to her for it, as his stomach growled viciously as he bit into an apple.

However, after standing, she did not return to his side for some time. And when he turned, he froze, his heart lurching in his chest at the sight before him. She had returned to Thorn's side, her back against a tree. She leaned against the warm hides of the dragon, sleeping soundly. Thorn's tail was wrapped around the tree, the smaller end on her lap as though a blanket. He snored quietly.

Murtagh couldn't quite comprehend the feelings of affection and peace that came over him then, watching them sleep. Hal did not fidget or twitch like she was having a nightmare. She slept as though, with Thorn by her side, she felt safe. He itched to join them.

"Perhaps this is enough for now," Blödhgarm stated, following Murtagh's gaze. The elf gave him a kind smile, as if knowing exactly what Murtagh had been thinking. "And you need to rest, _Shur'tugal_ ," he added, speaking to Eragon. "You must be rather famished from keeping the scrying up."

"It's not as bad as it used to be," Eragon said dismissively. "But I am hungry, and Saphira keeps nagging me to eat. Besides, we do have our next steps and more information than when we started this conversation."

Blödhgarm and Invidia stepped away so that Eragon and Murtagh may speak in private for a moment. When they were alone, Eragon let out a slow breath. "It seems I owe Halen many thanks for all she has done and endured."

"You and me both," Murtagh grunted.

"You seem happier," Eragon commented. "Perhaps the sun is better for you than the ice and snow of the north."

"Whatever it is you want to say, just say it."

Eragon smiled. "I'm only trying to say you seem well. Better. And I'm glad for it. I'm glad you have found a place that brings you peace."

Murtagh didn't know what to say to that, glancing over at Hal and Thorn again.

"Murtagh…I think, well this may sound insane but —"

"Hal is the child," he stated nonplussed. When Eragon blinked, Murtagh just shook his head. "We already figured it out. She's at the center of all of this. Her and her magic. And if you age the features you first gave me —"

"Aye. When I first saw her, I knew almost immediately. Even though she's much older, all this time…it's like I do know her, in some way. If that even makes sense."

Murtagh nodded.

"You promise you will actually keep in touch from now on?"

Murtagh opened his mouth to tell Eragon to shove it when Hal sleepily interrupted. "I will see to it that he does, Eragon!"

Murtagh shot her an incredulous look, but she was already cozying up to Thorn, and he felt almost weak the longer her looked at her. "You heard the woman," he said bitingly.

"Indeed, I did," Eragon said with a laugh. "Take care, Murtagh."

When Eragon faded from view, Murtagh turned on his heel. "How long were you eavesdropping?"

"Relax, rider. It's not like you were trying to be private about it."

Her brown eyes followed him as he sat down in front of her. "I owe you an apology for my behavior earlier. I should've controlled myself better. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I wish I had punched a tree rather than cry. I hate when people see me like that."

"Why?"

She leaned forward, her expression unreadable as she cupped his cheek in her hand. He fought to suppress a shiver at the touch. "Because now there is more worry in your eyes than before. And I did not want to add to it. These last few weeks, where it was gone, were like something out of dream. I feel like I was the one who brought it all crashing down around you. I _like_ seeing you happy, and when you smile and laugh. I didn't want to take that from you."

"You bear too much on your own," he challenged. "And I'd rather know what we're up against now than have it blindside us later — when it's too late."

Her eyes became sad then, and she did not bother disputing the truth of his words. He took her hands in his, lowering them to his lap. She stared at their hands for a moment, her scars glaring.

"I remember the first time I laughed, after I came to Illium," she said in a low voice, her eyes distant. "I don't remember what was said or done, all I know was that Eli and Cado had been bickering in that way that they do. It was over something mundane. And I just remember…laughing. A _real_ laugh, for the first time in almost a year. Before that I had been consumed by this nothingness that grew heavier to bear with each passing day…but in that moment, I felt almost light. I just…laughed.

"Everyone looked completely shocked. Almost like they thought the day would never come to pass that they would see me smile." Her face became pained. "They looked so happy, rider. So happy for me and in that moment, I remembered how it felt to be loved and cared for and protected. It was still hard, afterwards, but I tried harder, for the first time since Denu took me in, I tried to put their needs above my own. I wanted to pay them back for all they had done for me, all I had put them through. And I realized that in doing so, in thinking of someone else, I didn't have to worry about my own feelings or emotions. I could easily push those aside for the sake of someone else. It was just as selfish as it was selfless.

"And now, sometimes I forget what these feelings even are. I am quick to worry about the villagers and their safety, but did not think twice of my own when I left for the woods this morning. I demand you sleep and eat but sometimes I will ignore such desires because I am too busy to think about them. Sometimes I feel like if I didn't have someone else to worry about, I would disappear entirely. Like without others, I am nothing."

He had no words. His chest was tight with emotion. There was so much he wished he knew so that he could help. So that he could provide the comfort she needed. Yet all he could think to do was pull her into his chest, slowly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He was thankful that she had revealed such personal matters to him. They explained so much about her, and he felt closer to her. Trusted.

"You are not 'nothing' nor have you ever been," Murtagh said at last. "Not to me or Thorn, and not to the villagers. And I hope, one day, my actions will be proof of that, so that you don't have to just take me at my word."

She didn't respond, just snuggled deeper into his chest, which made his face hot. But he held on tightly regardless.

"I never noticed before," she said sleepily, "how nice you smell."

He chuckled. "I smell nice?"

She hummed contentedly. "Like… eucalyptus," she inhaled gently, "and pine."


	30. Chapter 30: Cold Shoulder, Warm Touch

There was a level of weariness in his chest when Murtagh rose the next morning. He had barely slept, his mind trying to review every detail of the last few months. For things to have been so quiet, and now suddenly there was evidence of a Shade…he couldn't believe he had missed it.

 _Do not fret, young one,_ Thorn told him encouragingly. _We have faced off against worse opponents. A Shade will be nothing for us._

 _You are surprisingly optimistic._

 _I feel like we have been given a sense of purpose beyond ourselves. This is our home now, and we will defend it against all enemies._

Murtagh paused, his heart hammering his chest. Home. He had not quite said the word himself, yet it was quite obvious that Thorn had no qualms about using it. It certainly _seemed_ fitting. The word one would use when you have found a place to call your own. Yet he simply hadn't given it any thought, Hal's attack quickly preoccupying any elation he had felt at being so warmly welcomed by the villagers.

Home.

He breathed, feeling a heavy burden and sense of responsibility that came with it. Is this how Hal felt when she spoke of her desire to protect the village? If so, it would explain the desperation that fueled her during their lessons. Thorn was right though. Home or not, it did not change that this village had certainly become special to him. Precious. And he felt like he had earned it, through honesty and hard work. He was proud of that and of the friendships he had made. He wanted to protect this place and its quirky inhabitants. But he also feared his strength would not be enough.

 _Do not let such fears consume you_ , Thorn warned. _You are more capable than you give yourself credit for._

 _Am I though? Have I truly done anything on my own that would lead you to believe that I can do what it takes to protect the Tenari?_

He could feel Thorn's shock as he sat up, pressing his back against the wall as he began to hear Hal moving around the hut. Only then did he realize how early he had gotten up. She usually either had to wake him for breakfast or her movements stirred him from sleep.

 _You spared Eragon and Saphira at risk of your own life so that Galbatorix would not take them. You alone are the reason Eragon was able to defeat the tyrant. You rescued Hal from the Ra'zac —_

 _I showed them mercy, it was hardly a show of strength. And taking down his shields was only possible because of my feelings for Nasuada. Had my name not changed, my role would have been meaningless. And I did not rescue Hal from the Ra'zac. She killed the creature herself. I was too late._

 _You and I both know she does not see it that way. And I'm inclined to tell her about this conversation so that she can give you a proper, verbal lashing._

 _It does not change the truth of the matter —_

 _The truth?! I did not pick so lowly of a rider that he would rewrite his own history in order to lessen himself! You are letting your fears cloud your judgement. And if you let it continue, what you fear_ will _come to pass._

Murtagh shuddered at the thought, knowing Thorn was right yet still unable to shake the feeling of his own inadequacy. The discovery of a Shade behind this upped the stakes quite significantly. He had not been lying to Hal when he told her that her attack had genuinely frightened him. For in that moment, he felt like he had under Galbatorix's control: helpless. He hated that feeling, hated how lesser it made him feel. And now, it was not just he and Thorn he had to protect.

 _All my life, until you, I've only ever had to look after myself. It became like a second skin to me, and it fit me accordingly. Not even Nasuada could completely break me out of such a hardened shell. Perhaps with time, but I did not give us that option. And I don't think I was the man who could have. Not at the time._

 _But now you are that man_ , Thorn countered gently. _The man I knew you to already be the moment you touched my egg. You yourself told Eragon to teach the new riders to fear only in small doses. Now is the moment you must take your own advice and adhere to it. You know what is at stake. You know who is at risk. Will you cower? Or will you fight?_

Murtagh was quiet as he pondered Thorn's call to action. He rather hated that the dragon was using his own words against him, but they rang true all the same. Absentmindedly, he rose to his feet, following the sounds of Hal's early morning chores. She was kneading the dough for the bread, her arms covered in flour up to her elbows. Her sleeves were rolled up, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun at the nap of her neck as she turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

"Rider? You're up early, did you sleep all right?"

"I supposed. Figured I would come and offer to help."

She gave him a curious look. "Liar." He blinked, and she shot him a knowing smirk. "You look troubled. What's on your mind?"

"Am I that transparent?"

"Perhaps not to anyone else less observant than me." She turned back around. "Is it about what we learned yesterday? About the Shade?"

He walked closer, letting his silence speak for itself. She didn't push him to talk just yet, much like he had learned to do with her. Hal grunted as she fought with the dough, attempting to smooth it out before she shaped it for baking. In that moment, she seemed so normal. Her scars were not visible underneath the flour, and there was a streak of it across her forehead, her hair falling from its hold and into her face and eyes. He watched her blow on the strands repeatedly before finally reaching out to tuck them back for her. Her appreciative smile calmed him some.

"How do you do it?" he finally asked her.

Her brows shot up, surprised by such a question. "Wow, I'm not sure how to answer that. I suppose, if you must know, the trick is really all in the hips. Other women will tell you the wrists, but there's no control in the wrists. It requires too much strength; you can't put that kind of pressure on them when the dough is this tough —"

She let out a shriek of laughter when he took loose flour off the table and smeared it on her face. She turned her head, trying to flee and he grabbed her around her waist, preventing her from running. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he grunted, smiling despite his brooding mood.

"I do actually, yes," she teased, laughing breathlessly as he finally set her down. She moved before he had time to react, grabbing her own handful of flour and tossing it in his face, her hands rubbing it in for good measure. He began to cough when it got in his mouth as he inhaled and Hal froze, her eyes wide before he decided to use the opening to retaliate. She squealed with laugher that made his heart flutter as he reached for her, more flour in his hand to smear into her face with equal ferocity as she had done to him. But Hal lost her balance trying to outmaneuver him in the tight space and they both went down, Murtagh absorbing most of the impact as Hal landed on top of him.

The air rushed out of him and Hal rolled off him, laughing at the stunned expression on his face. Denu was suddenly standing in the doorway, looking quite surprised and concerned. "What on earth is going on in here? I hope you two aren't destroying my hut."

Hal laughed even harder, unable to control herself. "We lost our balance, is all," Murtagh grunted, still winded from hitting the hard earth.

"Uh-huh." Although Denu seemed unconvinced — despite Murtagh's words being fairly accurate, just without the extraneous detail — he shook his head at Hal's laughter, fighting to hide his own smile, and said, "Just be careful then. I'm rather attached to this house."

They both managed to acknowledge that they heard him and he left to tend to his own business before breakfast. Hal's laughing fit faded into sporadic giggles and quieter chuckles until she finally fell silent, relaxed. Only then did Murtagh turn to look at her. Her hand cradled her head, propping it up so that she could look at him. He felt a familiar stirring in his chest the longer he held her gaze, but he also couldn't look away. Nor, he realized, did he want to.

"Ask me again," she prompted him, her voice kind but firm.

He exhaled slowly. "How do you push past your fears in order to focus on what you know you must do? I do not mean to drudge up painful memories, but after what the Ra'zac did to you, how do give so much of yourself to your lessons without letting your fears consume you?"

"Wow," she breathed, in a much more serious tone than before. "I'm really not sure how to answer that." She moved so that she was lying her back, shoulder-to-shoulder with him. They both stared up at the ceiling in silence for a moment. "I suppose…I suppose, if I'm being honest with myself as well as you, I've learned to tuck my fears away. I'm not quite sure how to explain it because Ayo helped teach me, but it's like there are drawers in my mind, where I place things I don't want to think about. Painful memories and the like. The feelings they stir within me are still with me: anger, helplessness, fear. But the actual memories themselves — ones that could cripple me as you very well know — I don't focus on. But my feelings are enough to give me validation. They are my reminder, why I must keep fighting. Although I admit it took me a long time to see them that way."

Murtagh watched her carefully as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression was pained. "The hardest part about what the Ra'zac did to me is how slow it all felt." He dared not move or breathe. Hal had never disclosed what had gone through her mind when she was taken. "It was only a few hours but for me it felt like years. The darkness was _suffocating_ — I could not see when the next punishment would come. I could not even see what the next punishment would be. The anticipation of waiting for it to make the next move sometimes felt worse than the actual torture itself. To be so incapacitated and weak broke my spirit. One that I had spent the better part of twelve years trying to salvage. All of that work, undone."

Murtagh felt a bold sense of protectiveness sweep over him. Despite the level of control in her voice, it was clear that those memories still haunted her. Still frightened her. But he waited, not wanting to interrupt.

"And when that fear gets to me, when it feels like too much to bear, I simply remember a little voice in my head, calling to me when I was at my lowest. Whispering to me to keep fighting, asking for me to be spared. Telling me to follow the sound of his voice so that I may not perish into the abyss."

He turned his head and found her already looking at him, a sad smile on her face. He could hardly breathe.

"You and Thorn gave me a new sense of strength I didn't even know I needed until after I met you. I told you I always feared my magic after what I did. But you helped me to understand it. Gave it purpose and meaning so that I could wield it to protect the people I love most. You reminded me that battle scars, while painful, are a reminder that you survived." She smiled. "I guess, the short version of what I am trying to say, is that I could not do this alone. My people give me something to fight for. And you gave me the strength to realize I could. And I am utterly grateful to you and Thorn for it."

She held his gaze for what felt like a lifetime. And he dared not look away, completely taken in by her soul-searching brown eyes and her gentle-hearted words. It's like she always knew what he needed to hear, but her words were always sincere and honest, never forced.

"You are amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low.

She looked away from him, her smile turning shy and doubtful. "I don't know about all of that —"

He knew she was feeling vulnerable if her first instinct was to refute his compliment rather than make a brash, teasing remark about it, and he would not hear of it. He set his hand on the opposite side of her face, tilting her head so that she would look at him. "You are," he stressed, leaning in closer and holding her gaze. "I continue to be surprised and inspired by everything that you do. You are amazing, Hal. Do not ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

He had no idea where such sentiments were coming from. And judging by the expression on Hal's face, she didn't either. His thumb ran across her cheek, under her eye, smearing the flour further. He felt a sense of calmness in the gesture. Her hand reached for his wrist, but she didn't move his hand like he thought she was about to. Instead, she simply held on to him, her own thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.

Something that wasn't quite protectiveness began to stir in his chest, familiar. The same sensation he had been feeling around Hal as of late. But this time it was stronger, harder to ignore, and his eyes dropped to her lips in a sudden sign of weakness. Breaking eye contact with her was enough to break whatever hold she had him under, but his feelings felt wildly out of place as he leaned back, giving her room to sit up. She did not seem to discern anything out of the ordinary, but Murtagh was fighting to control the heat in his face before it gave him away.

"You're helping me clean this up," she told him bluntly, glancing around at the flour on the floor.

He grinned, wiping a bit off her forehead. "We both need to get cleaned up," he reminded her.

They worked quickly and efficiently, Hal finishing the bread while Murtagh swept the floor. Every so often, he would find himself sneaking a look at her while she worked, humming to herself, occasionally talking aloud about her chore list or something she had forgotten. It was all so familiar, so comforting, and so ordinary that Murtagh felt his chest tighten once again at the thought of what should happen if he failed. And yet, that she should smile and laugh despite what worries he knew weighed on her mind as well, the same thoughts he had, baffled him. That she had lost so much — more than anyone he knew — and still cared for this village the way she did was a true testament to her character. Her strength and resiliency.

Without thinking, he moved towards her and wrapped her in his arms, folding Hal against his chest. "Murtagh, what —?" But her voice was soon muffled against the material of his tunic. She must've soon realized that he needed this, needed to feel her warmth for himself, because she sighed and wrapped her arms around his hips.

"I can't lose you," he whispered into her hair in a moment of vulnerability.

She pulled back a bit, although he kept his arms tightly fastened around her shoulders. Her smile was unbelievably kind as she took his face in her hands. "Then I will just make sure that I don't go anywhere you cannot follow."

Her voice was so assured that Murtagh could not help but nod. His breathing loosened some, but his doubt and fears still gnawed at him from the back of his mind.

 _Blödhgarm and Invidia are on their way_ , Thorn said suddenly.

Murtagh sighed, wishing the elves had a better sense of timing. He relayed Thorn's message to Hal, regretfully stepping away from her. He went to the door, Hal following close behind him out of curiosity. When Blödhgarm and Invidia arrived, taking in the flour that covered their faces and hair, Hal grinned mischievously while Murtagh muttered, "Don't ask."

"Then we won't," Blödhgarm said with a rather knowing smirk that made Murtagh's face hot. "We came because we are preparing to put wards up around the village."

Murtagh tried not to audibly groan. He had forgotten that quickly. "Let me go wash up and change. I'll be right out."

"I'll come with you," Hal said, turning on her heels.

"Actually, that won't be necessary," Blödhgarm added gently, his expression apologetic but firm as Hal turned to stare at him with surprise. Murtagh knew she was not always used to being told no and, if she was, she usually did what she felt she must anyway.

"May I ask why?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"Although I'm sure Murtagh has been key in teaching you basic, rudimentary magic —"

Murtagh felt like he had been slapped.

"Hey!" she snapped defensively.

"This magic is beyond you," Blödhgarm finished. "It would best if you stayed here for now where it's safest."

"Well that's too bad," she snapped. "Because the magic he's taught me is perfectly fine." But as she moved to walk away, Murtagh reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her so that she faced him. "Rider, what are you doing?"

He was too ashamed to voice his thoughts aloud, but she read the look in her eyes because she tried to yank her arm back. "No. No, I'm not staying behind like some helpless lamb. I'm going, that is final."

"I ask that you please stay," he told her gently.

"Do you think me useless?"

"No."

"Do you think me a burden?"

"You know I don't."

"Then why?" she stressed. She stopped fighting him so he released her arm now that there was less of a risk she would fall. But the betrayal and hurt in her eyes was perhaps even worse than her fighting back. "I don't have to put the shields up then, if the magic is too much. But let me observe, let me help map the perimeter around the village —"

"We already did that," Invidia stated plainly. She looked to Murtagh. "We need to get going."

He nodded, but Hal stopped him, pleading with her eyes as she said his name. Just once. Only once. And he felt his resolve weaken, but only for a moment. "I'm sorry, Hal."

He walked away from her, feeling guilty for leaving her behind as he changed. He was doing this for her, he told himself. He didn't like the idea of her in the woods should anything happen. There was something about the walls of the village that felt safer. So within the village she would remain for now.

 _Thorn, do you mind staying and keeping an eye on her?_

 _Not at all, young one. Although, I might recommend you fetch your own meals while you are out._

Murtagh flinched at that.

…

Hal was so beyond mortified and indignant with rage that she accidentally let the bread burn. She told herself not to cry from her anger, it would only make her feel weak and pathetic, and the nasty cycle of then wondering if that was why she wasn't stronger would begin to weave its way through her mind. She had expected as much from the elves, but not from the rider. He was always praising her skills and ability to master the challenges he gave her — yet when it mattered most, he always pulled away from her. Was he lying about her progress? And even if he wasn't, his lack of faith in her was a devastating blow to her confidence. She had taken care of herself for years. She knew she was capable, knew she was strong. Yet she had a hard time believing it as of late.

Or perhaps…

She regretted admitting to him how afraid of the Ra'zac she had been. Had he taken her words to heart, thinking she had meant she wanted out? Did he think it would be easier for him to manage on his own? Perhaps she really would have been a burden. If another Ra'zac had appeared and all she would have done was panic and freeze, it would make sense to keep her behind.

Right?

She refused to speak to Murtagh when he returned; although, the rider seemed to be in a bit of a foul mood on his own. Hal almost asked him what was wrong, then remembered she wasn't talking to him. And in those moments where he looked like he was about to speak, she gave him nothing more than a cold look and shoulder to match. He wasn't stupid. He knew he made a mistake, but she would not acknowledge him until she was ready. Her pride still stung over the course of the next few days.

However, Murtagh's distance must've been worse than Hal anticipated. Even some of the other villagers were coming to her, citing his moodiness and noticing that she and him seemed to be on non-speaking terms. So nosy. Hal just shrugged and gave them an apologetic smile, not wanting anyone to get offended. Part of her was starting to get concerned, unsure if it was the Shade or something else.

But things were, for the time being at least, too busy to fret for long. The village was putting the finishing touches on the wedding ceremony, now only a day away. Murtagh's announcement that he was staying and Hal's subsequent "illness" had delayed things, but now they were back on track. The meat for the feast had been hunted by the groom's family, per custom, and was being salted and seasoned by the women of the bride's family. Decorations and family tapestries were being finalized and put into place, and Hal, as usual, was supporting Denu since he would be leading the ceremony.

"Hold still, old man," she mumbled over the needles in her mouth. She plucked one and carefully inserted it through the material of his robes. The outfit was old, but still grandiose in terms of village attire. The robe was simple, the material hugging his hips and draping over his shoulder, loosely fitted, and hanging down to his ankles. The pleats in the skirt would need to be redone tonight, but it wouldn't take her long to update the stitching. It was made of bright, beautiful colors: reds, yellows, greens, and blues. The pattern was carefully crafted, Denu had told her, by Isa, his late wife. She had given it to him as a wedding present, and he had worn it to every ceremony since as good luck for the new couple.

"Do you know what you'll be wearing, Halen?"

"No, I'll just grab whatever my hand finds first."

"Yes, yes… _or_ , you could wear the turquoise dress Tena made for you…"

Hal was barely listening, focused on the stitching needed to re-hem Denu's outfit. "Huh, didn't know you knew what turquoise looked like, but—"

"Now was the cheekiness necessary?"

"— if that's what you want."

"You got so many compliments last time you wore it."

"I don't even know if it still fits."

"Take it to Tena and have her take a look. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you in it."

Hal complied, tired and too lazy to argue. Although adopted, as a member of Denu's household, she would have to stand behind him at the wedding. She probably should do her best to look remotely decent.

When she had done what she could for his outfit, she went and grabbed hers. "Denu, whenever the rider returns, send him to Sam's. He mentioned having a spare set of robes for him to wear tomorrow."

"Aye, will do."

Tena was, indeed, pleased to see Hal would be wearing the turquoise dress. In fact, when Hal tried it on, the woman absolutely bursts at the seams at the notion of Hal actually in a decent set of clothes. "Oh, you should wear the gold-colored armbands with the matching belt. Do you know how you'll wear your hair? Please tell me you have a decent pair of sandals — not those ragged ones you always wear or those unsightly boots."

Although Hal was less than thrilled about the prospect of playing hostess along with Denu, she had to admit that at least the outfit would be one less thing to worry about. She still had to go check on the set-up for the ceremony, finish dinner for tonight, finish the pleating on Denu's robes, and make sure she still had all of the accessories Tena had just mentioned before she forgot. She would be busy in the morning as well, helping the family of the bride. She shuddered. No doubt those conversations would be primarily focused on the woman's wedding night. They always were.

She didn't see Murtagh again until dinner. His mood had not changed, but he kept shooting her glances across the table that she could not make heads or tails of. She did her best to ignore him. If he was finally ready to talk, then he knew where to find her. If Denu noticed the lack of conversation, he did not mention it, talking animatedly about tomorrow's ceremony. He was especially excited for Murtagh and Thorn to see it. "Nothing quite like it, I tell you. Absolutely stunning, everyone looking their best. And the food —"

Hal, without looking up from her plate, cleared her throat in warning.

"— Is not nearly as good as Halen's," Denu finished. But he gave Murtagh a sly wink, making him smile. Even Hal grinned teasingly.

"I'll remember that, old man," she teased.

Everyone retired to their rooms early. Hal sat in the chair in the corner of her room, closest to the torch, so that she could work on the pleats in Denu's robes. Her mind drifted, the task too monotonous to require much concentration. She thought of her mother, who had taught her to stich. She would situate Hal in her lap, holding the needle and thread in front of their bodies, her head on Hal's shoulder. Hal, in turn, did the same for Thea when she began to beg to learn how to sew. She had been thinking of her family a lot more as of late, but only the good memories. It was all she could endure. They made her chest tight, but they also made her smile.

There was a soft knock on the door and Hal briefly stopped what she was doing. She debated ignoring him, but decided against it. He was reaching out, she would at least hear him out before deciding what her next move would be. Besides, he would probably just come in anyway — he could probably see the light under her door and knew she was awake. She spoke, allowing him entry. Murtagh glanced around the room until he saw her, his expression almost sorrowful. She lowered her hands to her lap, her expression neutral as he came forward.

"I never told you, but we got the wards up around the village without any hassle. If any Ra'zac or Shade comes within a radius of the village, we'll know."

"Good," she said in a clipped tone, returning to her needlework. "If that's all you came here to say —"

"It's not. You know it's not." When she didn't acknowledge him, he continued. "You have every right to be angry with me —"

"My emotions certainly don't require your validation."

She expected a sharp retort in response but when none came, she felt tears of frustration build. But she didn't dare raise her head, hoping perhaps he would leave before her feelings got the best of her again.

"I knew I made a mistake the moment I told you to stay," he continued, his voice low. "But I didn't realize the depths of what my lack of judgement entailed until it was far too late. I acted selfishly out of my concern for your safety. And it was never my intention to undercut all of your hard work these last few months by implying you were not strong enough to handle the task. You were right — even if you couldn't perform the magic, there are other ways to be useful. And I certainly never should have let Blödhgarm insinuate otherwise."

"You all made me feel weak."

"I know —"

"No, you don't know, because I'm telling you now!" She remembered that her and Denu's room was only separated by the bathing room, and she got control of her volume. "I expected such things from Blödhgarm and Invidia because they know nothing about me. But you know better. You know I'm stronger than what they assume, you know I'm capable. And you know this because _you_ taught me. Not only did you undermine my abilities but you undermined your teachings as well. Neither of those things sit well with me and they should not sit well with you either."

"They don't. I'm an unbelievable ass, Hal. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

She observed him quietly, her shoulders relaxing some at the sincere apology. "Only on one condition." He waited. "Unless I am in no mental or physical condition to make a coherent decision, you do not make them for me without discussing it with me first. I understand your concerns for my safety, and I do not take such feelings lightly. If you had just _told_ me you would feel better if I waited, perhaps even offered to teach me the spell later so that I did not feel like it was a wasted learning opportunity, I would not have been so angry. Frustrated yes, but that would have been my own problem to sort through, not yours. Do not dismiss me completely simply because of your worries. Otherwise we both begin to see me as weak, and that's not fair to me."

He was nodding incessantly and Hal could not help but smile. "You have my word," he said. "And if I do slip up, please do not wait so long to call me out on it."

"Oh, I certainly won't. This was your first and final warning, rider. So, do tread lightly."

His smile was strained despite the humor in her tone. Hal frowned as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He seemed troubled, and Hal realized that there must've been something else that happened that she didn't know about.

"Is everything else all right?"

He nodded absentmindedly, which didn't do much to convince her. Then he suddenly shook his head. "No, I'm not all right. I mean, nothing is wrong. Aside from the obvious of course. I guess I just —"

"Out with it, rider."

He breathed before looking at her. "The elves have asked me to hand over your training to them."

Her eyes grew wide. "Are they serious?"

"Aye."

"Did they say why?"

"Only that — with this new information about the Shade — they felt it would be in your best interest."

She chewed relentlessly on her lower lip, understanding coming between them despite what went unsaid. "And you agree with them."

It wasn't a question.

"I cannot argue the logic of being trained by the elves. Eragon was and he improved drastically, although I cannot deny that Brom gave him a strong start."

"I still don't quite understand. What would they be able to teach me that you can't?"

He snorted. "Everything, I imagine. The meaning of life, the meaning of magic. They could sing an entire forest out of the ground if they so desired. It would certainly be a lot better than the stumbling, rudimentary lessons I've been giving you —"

"Those stumbling, rudimentary lessons are the only reason that Shade didn't break through my defenses!" Hal hissed. "Don't you dare insult all the good work you've done because of your injured pride. If you don't want me to train with them then, _heavens_ , just say so."

She hadn't meant her outburst, and Denu's dress and her needle had fallen from her lap. She doesn't remember standing, but she was still buzzing with anger at the wayward expression on his face. Had he suddenly been doubting himself this entire time? She had been adamant about wanting to become stronger, to be able to protect even Murtagh. But she had forgotten, arrogantly, that he would also need protection from himself and his own biting cynicism. Mere months would no undo years of what he had endured.

"I hate when you do that," she continued, fighting tears of frustration and hating how quickly her emotions got the better of her when she was around him. "Tear yourself down like that. As if we'd even be having this conversation if it weren't for you. As if I'd even have a fighting chance. You waste all your breath praising me for the most asinine of tasks and trivial details and yet you don't even give yourself a passing acknowledgement that you were the one teaching me in the first place. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

He didn't answer. He hadn't even looked at her since she began speaking and his own cowardice made something in her snap. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, Morzansson!"

It was like watching clay brick dry in the sun, waiting for him to turn his head. He met her gaze, but only barely. And his eyes were filled with so much shame that Hal felt her heart twist with the pain of it. So much like her mother, who she couldn't save.

"Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" she repeated. "When I've been spending the last few months, putting _everything_ that I have to give into your lessons. And you stand there tearing them down like your efforts have meant nothing. Like _my_ efforts have meant nothing. Do you even realize how happy those lessons made me? To be able to grow closer to you, to stand before you now and be able to call you my friend." She angrily wiped her face, hating how quick to tears she was but desperately needing him to understand. "Those lessons became something I looked forward to. To finally be able to understand this part of myself that I've been afraid of for so long. To feel like I could maybe have a fighting chance again. It may not have been perfect but that is no surprise, rider, that is simply life. But you think all of that was a series of _rudimentary stumbling_?"

She felt herself calm down, and she sniffed, wiping her face on the back of her hand. "You're such an ass, you know that?" she finished, her tone sharp. "Your pride is detrimental to my emotional state."

His face was stoic, his cheeks red, as he stood slowly and walked over to her. He picked up the items that had fallen from her lap, closing the distance between them. She began to reach for the gown when his fingers reached for her cheeks, wiping away what tears remained with acute tenderness. She wanted to lean into his touch, feel his hand on her cheek. His way of letting her know everything would be all right. But she was also still very much pissed at him.

"I hate when you cry because of me," he said in a low voice. "No matter how many times I promise myself I won't be the cause of your duress, I can't seem to keep it."

"It's a stupid promise," she muttered dryly. "Such is the nature of caring for someone besides yourself. You are bound to make them cry. I will cry, I will not speak to you, and I will be angry, but that does not lessen how much you mean to me. And the same, I hope, is true of me if I upset you."

His smile was sad, but it was a smile all the same. Hal bit her lip again, unsure of what to say now. Hopefully she hadn't just made things worse. Not to mention she felt awfully hypocritical, considering she was constantly fighting her own battles with self-loathing. Perhaps they were both too broken to comment on the other's deprecating manner. But she didn't like it coming from him. It wore too heavy on his shoulders, a reminder that he meant every cutting remark. That he had heard such statements for his entire life and was, more than likely, repeating what he had been told, whereas Hal projected her inadequacies from her inability to protect those she had cared about. But she had always been told she was strong, smart, and capable by the people whose opinions mattered most. No. She could not compare the two at all. And she felt that familiar, burning anger on Murtagh's behalf, driven by her own protectiveness.

Just as she was beginning to regret her outburst, she suddenly felt his thumb on her lower lip, freeing it from the confines of her teeth before she gnawed through it. Every thought in her head immediately stopped and collapsed, her mind blank and her body buzzing with delight at the touch. Stunned, she looked up at him, expecting a teasing grin or a knowing smirk or even a kind smile.

She got none of those.

Instead, she saw something akin to predatorial. Hungry. His grey eyes looked almost wild with it as he studied her lips. Fire began to race through her bloodstream, making her skin hot and flushed. Her stomach was knotted with nerves. The same sudden reactions she had felt when he had taken her face in his hands on the floor of the kitchen, how his eyes had looked at her differently. Wantonly. Anticipation for what he might not do. Hope, for what she suddenly realized she wanted him to. Fear, for what this all even meant.

His finger was still on her lip, and it traced the curve of it like he was taunting her. Toying with her, like prey. All the heat from her body landed in the apex of her thighs, and she was so flustered and surprised by her sudden lust that she gasped with the shock of it.

The sound broke whatever reverie they had both been under. Hal wasn't even sure her knees were going to hold much longer. Murtagh lowered his hand and they both stepped back, neither able to speak. Murtagh looked confused, staring at his hand as if it didn't belong to him. And Hal was touching her lip, torn between committing the act to memory and never wanting to think about it again.

But as Murtagh gave her one final look, she saw it. The way his gaze lingered on her lips one last time before he quickly left, too embarrassed to say goodnight. When the door was shut, Hal fell back into her chair, not even bothering to realize that Murtagh had left with Denu's unfinished robes in hand.


	31. Chapter 31: Under a Full Moon

They waited until sundown, when it was cooler. Everyone was dressed in vibrant colors and even brighter smiles. Like many of the men, Murtagh was dressed in loose pants, a bone ivory that made his tanned complexion stand out. There was an intricate deep blue pattern that was woven at the hems. He wore a matching vest over a blue, long-sleeved tunic that was meant to be loosely fitted but, due to the increase in muscle mass in his arms, only just managed to fit at all. But the material was soft against his skin, smooth like silk but breathable in the heat. Tena had even trimmed up the rough ends of his hair to make sure he was as presentable as everyone else.

"Murtagh!"

Layla ran towards him wearing an ankle-length, strapless dress of deep purple. Her hair had been braided and carefully pinned up. She twirled for him with a broad smile. "Do you like my new dress? Mama made it for me."

"You look beautiful," he said with a smile.

She beamed. "Thank you. We should hurry before all the good spots are taken."

"But what about —?"

But she had already grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the village center where the ceremony was to be held. Murtagh could find no sign of Hal, who had been strategically absent since he woke up this morning. Denu had not seemed surprised, claiming that she was doing much of what he would have done as the head of the village, but could not because of his impairment. "She'll likely get ready at one of the nearby huts so that the women can help her dress." The old man had sounded oddly happy about that, but Murtagh thought nothing of it.

Layla held his hand, swinging their arms dramatically as they walked, joining the ever-growing crowd of attendees. Murtagh could find no sign of Hal, and guilt and humiliation told him that this was more of a blessing than he deserved. He had no idea what he was to say to her when he saw her again. He had no idea how they were to acknowledge what had — or perhaps hadn't — happened last night.

He was utterly shameless. Everything about her had been a comfort. He had always felt at ease with her. At peace, just as Thorn suggested. But it wasn't until that moment that he realized just how much of an effect she had on him. How hard it was to be angry or tense when she was near. Especially when she was standing there, crying and indignant on his behalf. Saying such sweet things that chipped away at his stony resolve that he had worn for so long. He had drawn near, his body moving before his mind could realize what he was doing.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind. He had wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted _her_. And when he had looked into her eyes, seeing for himself and _knowing_ the effect he was having on her, he had wanted to press her against the wall and see if she would gasp for him again.

He shook his head of the thoughts. She certainly deserved better than his lewd fantasies.

Although relieved he hadn't acted on impulse, the desire, he knew, was still there. Just thinking about how she had looked at him made his heart race. He felt dirty, thinking about her like he was. Ashamed. She didn't deserve it. She deserved better than him. And more importantly, there was too much going on in her life that required her attention. He would not distract her from that.

He feared having offended her, for multiple reasons. For his actions, in touching her in such an inappropriate and forward manner without her permission, and for suddenly leaving without any explanation or apology. And he wanted desperately to explain, but he didn't have the words to do so.

"Captain Hal, Captain Hal! Look at my new dress!"

The name broke his reverie as Layla rushed forward without him. Murtagh followed her to where Hal was standing, beside Denu, greeting the guests. He stopped walking, and someone ran into him, muttering apologies and darting around to continue forward.

Hal wore a dress of deep and mesmerizing teal, the same color as how she had described the ocean surrounding the island. Especially in the fading light of the sky, the color made her ebony skin glow, vibrant and lovely. The sleeves hung loosely off her arms, taunting him with the sight of her bare neck and shoulders. Cupping each bicep was a thick, gold-colored band. Around her waist was a fabric belt, a golden yellow like that of the sun, that accentuated her curves, the access material hanging neatly down her front. Her hair had been carefully pinned up, a thick braid wrapped around her head like a halo, and the rest tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck. The very nature of her attire reminded him of the island: resplendent and breathtaking.

She was watching him with baited breath as he made his way towards her. His footsteps felt slow and clumsy, but he stood straight, basking in her beauty as if truly seeing it for the first time. And he didn't understand how he had missed it. She didn't look different. She was still Hal. And he'd always thought her lovely.

And yet…

"Stunning, isn't she?" Denu said teasingly, sensing Murtagh without looking away from the guests who continued to arrive.

"Hush, old man, you can't even see —" Hal began.

"Yes," Murtagh breathed, cheeks flaming, and Hal's eyes went back to him, surprised. "Even I am not too proud to admit that, for all my years of education, I do not possess the words to describe how beautiful you look."

She began biting her lip again, then stopped, then clamped her lips together as she ducked her head, failing to hide her pleased smile. "Thank you," she whispered shyly.

Heavens above and below. He wanted her even more now. Fortunately, Layla's sudden giggles grounded him before he said or did something foolish in full view of the village. Neither he nor Hal noticed when the old man and the little girl high-fived each other triumphantly.

"Which reminds me," Denu began again, straightening up as Layla ran inside to find her parents, "Halen, why don't you stay with Murtagh during the ceremony."

"Are you sure? I've always stood behind you."

"It's expected, but it's not quite customary. And Murtagh is new, you should remain with him and help him understand some of the traditions."

"All right then, if you're sure."

Murtagh could feel Hal's presence throughout the entire ceremony. Denu was overjoyed, smiling more broadly than the bride and groom themselves. But Murtagh missed everything he said. He could feel Hal's hand mere breadths from his, and it was all he could do not to grab it. To hold her hand in his and feel her comforting warmth for himself. Their shoulders kept brushing against each other, and it felt intentional and playful. And it would send a jolt through his system every time. Occasionally she would explain a bit of the ceremony, its significance. She would lean in to whisper and he would catch whiffs of her perfume on her hair, shudder at her breath on his skin.

Murtagh dared to steal a glance, just a quick peek, only to catch her already looking at him. She quickly looked away, a shy, playful smile on her lips. Murtagh was captivated by the way it would tug at her mouth, and the way she would bite down on her lower lip to hide it. The urge to run his finger over her lip again took hold of him, and he could not help but wonder if she was teasing him now. The dimples in her cheeks were endearing, and no matter how hard he tried he suddenly couldn't look away. He simply could not fathom how he had missed such features before.

She looked back at him, this time holding his gaze. Suddenly Murtagh could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't understand what he was feeling, but it was like a warm sensation spreading throughout his entire body. Without taking her eyes off of him, she wrapped her pinky around his as if in a silent promise. But then she let go, turning back to watch the conclusion of the ceremony.

The bride and groom shared a sweet kiss and everyone erupted into cheers. Murtagh blinked, turning from Hal and swallowed, his cheeks aflame. He clapped politely, his smile growing broad as he gazed at the couple before him. They really did look happy.

The celebration that followed was grand. There was more food than Murtagh could imagine, and it wasn't long before his hands were filled with goblets of sweet wine. He watched the couple share their first dance as husband and wife with a lighthearted ease. Hal had been swept away by a few of the older women, and Murtagh had situated himself with Amon, Ayo, Cado, Eli, and Sam, who complained loudly of marriage, laughing when their wives made rude gestures to them from the other side of the fire, causing much of the party who had observed the exchange to laugh.

The music was upbeat and loud, Murtagh swaying contentedly in his seat, Thorn behind him where he gnawed at the large lovuk that had been snared for him.

"Did you enjoy the ceremony, Dragon Rider," Eli teased. "Did you catch any wedding fever?"

"Yes and no," he said. "I have very little inclination to marry."

"Heavens, now you sound like Hal," Cado groaned.

His ears perked up in surprise. "Hal doesn't want to marry?"

Amon laughed. "Does any part of Hal seem like she wants to be married?"

"Or 'tied down' as she lovingly refers to it," Sam said before taking a deep pull of wine.

That sounded like Hal all right. But he was still rather surprised all the same. "Is it okay, for women to be unwed here?"

"It's not common, but it's also Hal, so everyone just accepts it. Besides, even when she was engaged —"

Murtagh choked on his wine. "What?" he wheezed, tears in his eyes. Ayo clapped him on the back.

"For lack of a better term," Sam finished. "With the son of a leader from a neighboring village. They're still good friends, but woo-wee. I though Hal was going to kill him when they first met. He didn't have a great first impression."

"Or second," Amon added.

"Third was worse," Eli said absentmindedly.

"What did he do?"

"Well apparently, when Denu was trying to explain to the man that although Hal hadn't been open to the idea, she had agreed to meet with him, he had made a comment along the lines being able to 'break her in.'"

Murtagh whistled.

"Our thoughts exactly. And Hal overheard the whole thing, chucked her sandal at his head and said words Denu wasn't comfortable repeating."

"I hate that I missed it."

"We all do," Eli said with a grin. "Tengene heard and saw everything, of course, which made things worse for Hal. Not that she cared, mind you. Eventually the marriage dissolved, but Berjis — that's his name — came to respect her. And she him, for which he was lucky. They're on much better terms now. Hal even attended his wedding and was there for the birth of his children. She's actually godmother to his oldest daughter."

"We're planning on visiting his village soon," Amon said thoughtfully. "Hal meets with him every so often on behalf of Denu — since he can't travel like he used to. And they're close to the beach, so the food is impeccable.

"Especially if Berjis' wife is cooking," Sam added with a wistful expression.

"You should come with us," Ayo said with a grin. "I feel like all you do is work. You've got to see more of the island now that you're staying."

"That sounds fun," he admitted. "I won't be in the way, will I?"

"Oh, Hal says we're always in her way when we visit because we serve no real purpose except to visit friends and eat," Eli stated with a casual shrug. "So, honestly, you'll fit right in."

"What about you, rider?" Cado said, nudging him with his elbow. "No wedding fever, but is there any special woman in your life?"

Murtagh's chest felt tight and his expression fell somewhat. "There was one, a long time ago. But it was not meant to be."

Cado frowned, having been fishing for a different response. "I'm sorry to hear that," Amon said gently before Murtagh noticed the looks of confusion. "She must've been something to catch your eye."

That made him smile. "She certainly was."

Ayo clapped him on the back once more, this time sympathetically. But Murtagh wasn't sad, not like he had once been when he thought of Nasuada. He had been so busy, he didn't have the time to lament on what could've been like he used to. And he felt better for it. Like the more he could let her go, the less of his past he had to hang on to.

The men were soon pulled away by wives who wanted to dance, swept up in the romance of the evening as they reminisced about their own weddings. They made faces at Murtagh at first, mouthing for help with such dramatic antics that the women would slap their arms until they behaved. He laughed watching them, feeling such carefree joy from the villagers and from Thorn that even he succumbed to it.

Eventually, though, his eyes found Hal. He could tell she was tipsy with wine, her eyes bright in the fire and most of her accessories gone. Her hair was completely undone, freed from its up-do and swinging around her face as she twirled and danced with Layla and Denu. How different she looked from the last time the village had gathered like this. Murtagh had had to whisk her away for fear she would lose her composure. And now he only feared she would collapse from spinning too much.

His eyes followed her every move, taking in the way her hips swayed to the drums or the way she held up her skirt so that her feet didn't trip over the hems. There was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that didn't slow her down, and she threw her head back and laughed at something Eli said to her as he joined in her dancing. As the wives of the other men tired out, they made their way to Hal and each man danced with her, some fast, some slow. As she danced with Amon, the man leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

Hal's eyes suddenly flickered over to where Murtagh was sitting, her gaze making his head spin as he wondered what the man was saying to her. When the song ended, another began, the pace much faster, pulling many of the villagers back to their feet. Hal barely made it out, and Murtagh laughed as she made a face, running towards him.

"Dance with me."

"Wait, no, Hal —!"

She didn't wait. She took his hands in hers and lifted him to his feet. She pulled him through the crowds, close to the inner circle, closer to the fire. Murtagh, was very much aware of where his hands were, and he was horrified to realize that they were trembling with nerves. And as Hal stood in front of him, taking one hand to place it on the small of her back, she blanched in shock.

"Rider, your hands…" Her face quickly transitioned to one of concern, the laughter in her eyes dimming. Her gaze became embarrassed. Ashamed. "I'm so sorry — Amon mentioned you hadn't danced with anyone and I wanted the honor of being the first."

"No, don't apologize." He gave her a wry smile. "But I admit that I am not confident on my feet. And I would not look nearly as good as you."

"Practice and wine never hurt." Her eyes seeking permission, he nods and she takes his hands again. She walked him through the steps, teaching him where to put his feet, laughing when he stumbled but encouraging him all the while. She kept the dance to the same few steps, keeping the tempo slow compared to the others, so he soon picked them up.

"There you go, Dragon Rider!" Amon roared boisterously, dancing past them with Tena in his arms. Amon slapped him on the back to encourage him, but Murtagh just felt his face burn hot as others turned to look at him.

"Ignore him," Hal shouted to be heard over the music and chatter.

And so they moved around the fire with the rest, dancing around each other. They stepped forward and stepped back, their arms around each other as they twirled. And almost immediately it was like everything and everyone else just fell away. It was as though it were only he and Hal in the village…in the world. Her face smiling up at him. Their fingers intertwined. It felt right.

It felt…perfect.

…

The ceremony threatened to last into the early morning, and when a drunken Denu began to loudly proclaim that the next man who jumped the bonfire would marry Hal, she called it a night. Especially when Eren boldly made a move towards the flames. Fortunately, Amon grabbed his son before he could make a spectacle of himself. Murtagh seemed all too happy to help her walk Denu back to the hut, both of them laughing at the ridiculousness of the old man crooning romantic songs to the full moon.

"Oh, nights like these, I miss my sweet Isa more and more," he said sadly.

 _His wife_ , Hal mouthed to Murtagh, and he nodded.

"Oh she was a surefire gem, Murtagh," Denu continued. "I lost her twelve years ago. Went peacefully in her sleep, although it broke my heart. But I got my sweet Halen not long after, so I wasn't lonely for long."

"She sounds wonderful."

"Who? Halen?"

Hal snorted and Murtagh bit down on his lip to hide is laughter and Denu's furrowed brows softened in understanding. "Oh, you mean Isa. Yes, yes, she was indeed wonderful." Denu was quiet for a few moments, then blurted, "You're not married, are you son?"

"Denu!" Hal scolded.

"It's fine," Murtagh said quickly. "But no, I am not married."

"Good, good. Just making sure. No woman ever catch your eye?"

Murtagh was quiet, his gaze unconsciously flickering towards Hal, who was trying not to appear so interested and missed his look. But Murtagh had never really discussed any romantic interests before. "Only one. A long time ago. But she and I…you could say we were doomed from the start. But we parted ways amicably, which is all I could ever ask for."

Hal felt her chest tighten. She had forgotten, but he had told her once…

 _You remind me of someone._

 _Someone you love?_

Denu shook his head. "That's a shame. I know Halen may disagree with me, but I think marriage is the most beautiful thing in the world. Two people coming together, standing together, unified in love and respect —"

"If they're fortunate," Hal countered, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was rather put out by the reminder that Murtagh had once had someone, or perhaps had wanted to have someone. Not even Hal had ever had such notions, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps she was the only person in the world who had never been in love. And she felt silly for thinking it, but she felt rather ashamed for it, which made her hate the notion all the more and the pressure it put on those like her.

"Aye, that is true. I was very fortunate with my Isa. Oh, Isa. Isa."

Murtagh helped Hal get Denu to bed, the old man rambling and singing. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The door to his room closed behind them, Hal stormed off to the kitchen, swearing under her breath. She came out moments later with a wineskin that was full and stormed out again. Murtagh followed her outside where she found a spot against the back of the hut, a clear view of the moon and sky overhead. She was taking long pulls of wine as Murtagh sat down beside her.

She offered him the wineskin and he graciously took it. As he drank, she looked up at the sky. "It's supposed to be good luck, to marry under a full moon. At least it is here."

Murtagh stared, listening attentively like he always did when she spoke.

"But in _my_ village, back on Uden, the new moon was good luck. A new beginning for a new family. The ceremonies were smaller, just the families and perhaps close friends. The feast was still grand, but it was preceded by the customary dance, performed first by the groom and the men in his family. And then the wife would then perform her dance with the women of her family. The dances symbolized a promise, a commitment, to their partner. A vow, if you will. They were often very emotional for everyone."

She was crying, but her voice was steady, her head leaning back against the wall as her eyes focused on a distant past that she had kept buried for so long. "I learned the dance when I was seven, for my aunt's wedding. I spent hours practicing. I was so excited, so honored to be in a wedding. I wanted everything to be perfect. We all cried when it was over, even the groom and my father. And I couldn't wait to one day perform it for my husband." Her lower lip trembled. Then she looked at him, and his expression was full of sorrow.

"I don't remember that dance anymore, rider. I don't remember how it starts, I don't remember the music. I don't remember the order of the procession, or the vows. I have no dowry that my mother and father can hand down to me from my grandparents, and from their parents, that I may one day hand down to my children, who will hand it down to theirs.

"Everyone here assumes I am avoiding marriage because I can't find a suitable husband. And I admit that I have let them think as much, since it is easier to explain than the truth. I'm avoiding it because I can't bring myself to follow these customs. Every time I have been to a wedding, I say an extra prayer to grant them peace and prosperity even though they wedded under the wrong moon. It makes me paranoid, but that is simply how they do things. And I can't…I can't forsake my customs because I'm the only one left to remember them. And I don't even really remember them, which I am reminded of every time I sit through another wedding. And I hate it. I hate —"

She sighed, frustrated, and Murtagh offered her back the wineskin. She took it, grateful. "Why do we always wind up here after what's supposed to be a happy occasion," Hal added, her voice remorseful, more annoyed with herself than anything.

They sat in silence for a while, passing the wineskin back and forth. Hal wanted desperately to know more about the woman he once loved, but had little motivation to further add to the topic of romance and partnership when she so pathetically lacked in such stories of her own. The music drifted over them from the party and Hal began to sway to the slower, smoother tune. She hummed quietly to herself but stopped when Murtagh suddenly rose to his feet. When he held out his hand, Hal grinned. "And I thought you were averse to dancing with me. Have I not tortured you enough tonight, rider?"

"Only a fool could refuse you when you look the way you do tonight," he said, and Hal's face went hot as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Alone, his arm now slid easily around her waist, pulling her in tight to his body. Hal laid her hand on his shoulder as he held her other hand in his. They swayed softly, their steps shorter and much more at ease. "I attended many of the king's balls growing up, and again when I had to serve him. And I was made to dance and put on polite airs with the young ladies of the court—"

"That is perhaps the fanciest sentence I have ever heard."

"—So, I'm accustomed to slow dances, not fast ones like yours."

"Well you handled yourself with dignity and grace."

"Even when I stepped on your toes?"

She laughed. "Especially when you stepped on my toes."

There was a moment of silence, one Hal wished would last them through the rest of the night. So peaceful it was. He twirled her under his arm, stepping back as she spun away from him, then he gently pulled her back into his chest. When he moved to dip her, Hal laughed delightedly before he pulled her back up again. When she looked up at him, the movement caught his attention and he met her gaze. "What?"

Her smile widened. "I'm just happy," she admitted. "Everyone was so…joyful tonight and it just felt contagious. And having you here just makes it all better. And I just want to stay like this. This is what I want to protect."

Murtagh nodded in understanding. "I feel the same way." His gaze was sturdy, and Hal felt that if he hadn't been holding her, she would have collapsed at the intensity of it. "I could not take my eyes off of you tonight."

A shiver instantly ran down her back, lighting her from the inside at his words. The dancing slowed to a stop, but they still held on to each other as his words settled into the air around them. Hal felt…confused. Aroused and frightened by it. And once more, she found herself thinking about last night. How he had touched her and how she had reacted to it. She felt her heart begin to flutter at the thought that he might do so again.

"Have I said the wrong thing?"

"No," she said quickly. "Not at all. I'm just, not used to hearing such sentiments, is all."

His fingers went to her cheek, tucking some of her loose her hair behind her ear before returning to her waist. "A shame and a pity. For you deserve to hear it always."

"Then why not tell them to me yourself?"

He seemed taken aback, but grinned and asked, "Do you dare me to be so presumptuous?"

"And if I did? Would you accept such a challenge?"

"I would do whatever it was you wished of me."

"Even if I told you to kiss me?"

The words were out her mouth before her brain could register what she was saying. The blood was roaring loudly in her ears and she felt so embarrassed she had to fight to hold his gaze. She had meant for them to sound teasing and playful, but instead she had sounded wanton and desperate. This wasn't her. This was nothing like her. She was so confused. So very confused. Murtagh was her friend, the first she had ever really had who was closer to her in age and who truly understood her struggles, shared her secrets. And she his. That was precious to her. And she cherished it.

So why, _why_ did that suddenly not feel like enough?

All he had done for her, and yet she selfishly wanted to ask more of him. But what was it that she wanted? She could say she wanted to feel his hands running down the curves of her body, or that she wanted to feel his lips on her skin. Those things made her burn and ache for him in a way she had never known her body to react before. But was that all she wanted? She couldn't even comprehend her own feelings — which was no surprise. The thoughts that popped into her mind when he gazed at her like he did now were…consuming. And Hal was beginning to realize that her feelings had not appeared just last night. But last night _had_ forced her to acknowledge them. And she wasn't ready to do so.

Murtagh was still staring at her, equally as caught-off-guard as she had been by her own bold question. And she was so mortified and afraid of his response, his rejection, that she lowered her head, feeling herself becoming distant.

"Forget I said anything," she whispered, breaking their connection. Stepping out of the warmth of his embrace hurt more than she would have expected. But nothing compared to the emptiness she felt when he willingly let her go.

…

" _Focus, Halen_."

" _I'm sorry_ —"

" _Don't apologize. Just focus. We'll go again. Arm yourself_."

Hal breathed, raising the hand-and-a-half sword in front of her as Invidia did the same with her own, thin blade. Her training and sparring with the elves were nothing like it was with Murtagh. She had hardly used magic since they had begun instructing her, instead spending hours sitting in silence like she used to do with Denu. Clearing her mind and focusing on the world around her and on her own energy. These was often led by Blödhgarm.

As for her sparring sessions? Invidia was strict, tough, and rather frightening. It took all of Hal's willpower not to return to the village limping after being beaten so severely. But she didn't complain, using magic as she was instructed to lower the temperatures of her bath water to ease the aches and bruises she had begun to accumulate. She was taught to use magic for simple tasks, things where it felt useless to waste her energy. But the more she used it outside of her practices, the more it felt like second nature, less strange. More…part of her. And now they were encouraging her to only speak in the Ancient Language, unless she had had to inquire as to the meaning of a word, which was still quite often. Then she must study the word and incorporate it into her vocabulary like she had done with everything else.

The lessons were much more stringent, and at first, Hal had regretted so quickly accepting their offer to teach. She had done it merely to lessen her contact with Murtagh, unable to even look him in the eye without wanting to burst into tears or bash her head against a wall. But the elves were much stricter and they taught at a much faster rate than Hal was used to. At first she struggled against the pacing and the amount of material they would dump on her at any given moment. It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually Hal was keeping up and beginning to see improvement in her magic and swordsmanship.

" _Again_ ," Invidia instructed.

Their blades clashed, but the shock of fighting an elf no longer impacted Hal's arms like it did in the beginning (Hal had ungracefully and frightfully dropped her sword, her grip not nearly strong enough to withstand the strength of Invidia's blow). Hal was able to move faster, deflecting attacks and blocking blows with much more stamina than she'd ever had. She had never pushed her body to such limits, and it felt strange to see how the muscles in her arms and legs grew harder. She felt strong, physically strong. So even though she still lost, she lost knowing that an elf was the closest opponent she would get that could match the strength and abilities of a Shade. She missed nothing and she never let the sessions go to waste.

As the next few weeks progressed, so did her lessons. Magic was incorporated into their fights, with Blödhgarm occasionally attacking her mind as they fought. It had been alarming, at first, and she had panicked, thinking it was the Shade again and had put too much energy into stopping the attacking, letting her guard down in her fight against Invidia. Had it been a real fight, she would've been beheaded. But once they both let her become familiar with the presence of their minds, she felt less wary of their intense lessons.

" _Enough_ ," Blödhgarm stated gently, barely audible over the sounds of their fight. But Invidia stopped mid swing and Hal dropped to her hands and knees, sweat pouring down her back and stinging her eyes. Of course, Invidia only looked mildly flustered, and they had been sparring for what felt like hours.

" _You are greatly improving, Halen_ ," Invidia said with a miniscule smile. The elf held out her hand and Hal warily took it, having no shame in letting the woman use more of her energy while Hal struggled to find her own. Her legs were weary, her arms heavy. She knew she needed proper rest. She was pushing herself, but Invidia's compliments were far and few in between, and Hal could not help but smile.

" _Walk around, catch your breath_ ," the woman instructed. " _Hands above your head. We will stretch afterwards before you head back to the village_."

They led her back to her hut, keeping to the trees like they always did. Hal bowed her head and spoke in the Ancient Language, " _Thank you,_ Vinr-Alfakyn."

The hut was mercifully quiet when she entered. She grabbed a change of clothes and ducked inside the washroom, running a bath. She stared at the bruises on her body, feeling a strange sense of pride in them. _You are strong_ , she told herself. _You are capable._ When she climbed in, she ducked her head under the water, the world falling silent as water filled her ears. She cleared her head, closing her eyes and letting the water drift over her until her lungs began to scream for air.

When she finally emerged from the water, the sun was rising higher in the sky. Her vision blackened as she grew dizzy. She paused, waiting for it to pass. And like before, it did. It always passed. But the dizzying spells were happening more frequently. She would have to be careful. She didn't want a repeat of before, not after everyone had so properly scolded her for it.

She dried off and dressed in a simple pair of fitted leggings and a loose, long-sleeved tunic. She patted her hair dry and ran a comb quickly through the curls before they became too tangled to be of any use. As she stepped out, she began to twist her hair into a braid.

The door opposite her opened, and she froze as Murtagh stumbled out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and making her heart race at the sight of him. His chest was bare, but Hal did not notice his scars this time. Instead, her face grew hot at the sight of hard muscle usually hidden by his tunics. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, too deprived to tear her eyes away. Instead, she could only think about how his arms had felt wrapped around her. Could only think about the thrill of running her hand across his skin, how warm it would feel underneath her fingertips.

Her body grew flush and not, she knew, from the bath.

She dared raise her gaze and found him staring at her with the same intense expression. His jaw was tight, his eyes wild. Like he was struggling to control himself. Hal thought again of his finger on her lips and swallowed the shiver that threatened to overwhelm her. She did not like how muddled her brain felt. These emotions terrified her.

She broke away from their connection, hurrying to her room to put distance between them before she lost her composure. But composure over what, she didn't know. He called out to her, just once, but she promptly closed her door and pretended not to have heard.

Breakfast was ready by the time Denu and Murtagh were dressed. Hal kissed Denu on the cheek as she set his plate in front of him. "Denu, did you sleep well?"

"I have no complaints," Denu said brightly.

Denu looked at Murtagh, expecting a response. But he carefully avoided their gazes and shoveled food into his mouth instead. Denu looked at Hal and raised a brow, and then she shoveled food into her mouth as well.

Once she was done eating, she told Denu, "I'll be leaving for Berjis' village today, with Amon and the others. Is there anything you will need while I'm away? Remember, I'm to be gone for at least three days."

"Bah — look at her, treating us men like we can't take care of ourselves." Denu winked at her and she shook her head. "We'll be fine, love. Do send Berjis and his family my regards."

"Aye."

Murtagh continued to eat with his head down. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. His silence was a result of her distance. She felt guilty, but not enough to address the issue at hand. Not when she could barely look at him without feeling like she was losing herself.

Hal kissed Denu goodbye and mumbled out a half-hearted 'see you later' to Murtagh before ducking out the hut. The others were already waiting for her by the stables and Nani flickered her tail happily when Hal approached.

"Sorry to keep you," Hal said breathlessly, mounting her horse. "I was making sure everything was situated at the hut before I left. Are we ready to go?"

"Not yet," Amon said with straight face. "We're waiting on one more."

Hal looked around them, counting to herself. Amon. Sam. Ayo. Eli. Cado. Hal. She counted again to make sure she hadn't missed someone the first time. Then her eyes went wide with understanding and she pointed an accusatory finger in their faces. "Who do I kill first?"

"Amon, if you must know; it was his idea," Eli said quickly.

"Relax, both of you," Ayo stated evenly.

"How could you not tell me you invited him?"

"First of all, I invited him before whatever spat you two got in. I still wanted him to come and despite his insistence, I refused to rescind the invitation. Not to mention, you would have refused to come or insisted he stay here," Amon berated in that fatherly way she hated. "Whatever is going on between you and the rider —"

"Nothing is going on," Hal said dismissively.

"Perhaps that's part of the problem."

He looked at her then and, for a fearful second, Hal thought, in his eyes, she saw the truth. Like he knew what went unspoken between her and Murtagh at this time. And how much it terrified her.

"You're an adult, Hal. And Murtagh's your friend. Whatever is going on — or not going on," he added quickly when she began to interrupt, "you two need to talk it out. Clear the air and move on. Everyone is starting to become concerned and you both have been rather intolerable lately."

"We already told Murtagh all of this, which is why he agreed to come," Sam said. "Although he did suggest we tell you outright rather than blindside you."

"But we know how you get if you have time to plan ahead," Cado teased.

Dread washed over Hal. She had been looking forward to the next three days _away_ from Murtagh, hoping the time apart would clear her head. She needed less of him at the moment, not more. Despite the distance she had given them, it was hard when she saw him every morning and evening. When she ran into him after he bathed or he was already with Eli and Cado when she needed someone to make her laugh.

It was worse, though, the moments she did want to see him. When she overheard a joke she thought he would like or she made good progress in her training with Invidia and Blödhgarm. Moments that, any other time, she would share with him without a second thought, because she liked telling him about her day, and hearing of his in return. And then she would remember, and her muddled feelings would make a coward out of her yet again.

"Ah, here he comes. About damn time."

Hal felt stiff in the saddle, as if she knew exactly where he was. She could picture that somber expression on his face, feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Hal blinked back her tears before they exposed how dreadful she felt about the whole thing. "I'm going ahead," she snapped, and she ushered Nani forward against the shouts of surprise from her friends.

They wouldn't understand. They'd think her mad. Or worse, perhaps, they'd think her sane. Either way, these feelings — whatever they were — she needed them gone. If distance did not work, fine. If training did not work, fine. But as cowardly as it was, to run away from him at the first chance she got, she didn't care. It was all about control and needing to feel like there was not someone else who could dictate her emotions or how her body responded to them.

It was all about control she told herself. Nothing more. Nothing less.

…

"I told you this was a bad idea," Murtagh grumbled, irritable as he climbed onto his horse. He couldn't deny how his skin prickled with rejection at Hal's hasty retreat. At the same time, the last few weeks, he'd seen nothing but Hal's backside as she went out of her way to avoid being in the same vicinity as him for more the absolutely necessary.

"Well that's Hal for you?" Ayo sighed. "You would think someone who instigates as many confrontations as she does would, well, be more likely to _engage_ in confrontation."

"Nah, she doesn't care if it's something completely unrelated to herself. She's not exactly loose of tongue when it comes to her own emotions." Sam shook his head, as if disappointed. "Don't worry, rider. She'll come around eventually. You are not the first nor the last to receive her cold shoulder."

That did little to comfort him, but he wouldn't let them know. They had been surprisingly supportive since he and Hal had all but stopped talking. He wasn't as optimistic as the others that ambushing her on this trip would work — and so far, he was right. But as Amon would say: "The day is still young. Let's not jump to conclusions yet."

Murtagh sighed.

They rode largely in silence, the wind whipping past their ears so loudly that it didn't make for ideal conditions for conversation. Murtagh, however, didn't mind, as he tried, for the hundredth time, to figure out what he would actually say to Hal if he managed to get her alone long enough for them to talk. She was embarrassed, that much he could tell.

 _Even if I told you to kiss me?_

His stomach still churned at the memory of that night, his emotions flaring. The night had been about the closest to perfect he could recall. And it had unraveled so fast that it still felt like he had been slapped with it. And Hal had gone out of her way to avoid him, no matter how many times he tried to talk to her. He could see that she was uncomfortable around him, so he gave up on pushing the matter, hoping that, in time, she would come to him when she was ready. And until then, he would use their distance to try to come to understand his own feelings on the matter.

 _Even if I told you to kiss me?_

He regretted not stopping her before she fled, after those words left her mouth. He regretted not promising to do just that. He regretted not holding on to her longer. He had never been so…aware of her presence before. Of how soft she felt pressed up against him or how her hips dipped beneath the material of her dress. The length of her neck, the modest swell of her breasts, the warmth of her skin. She was suddenly becoming overwhelming, if only because he found himself looking at her like a woman, and not just as a friend. She was still Hal, and yet…

Murtagh shook his head. He couldn't talk to Hal when his mind was like this. He would only make things worse. Because not even he knew how to explain to her that despite everything she had done for him, it was no longer enough for him anymore.

He wanted more, that much knew. But such desire had never boded well for him. Why should this time be any different?


	32. Chapter 32: Her Name

Hal was welcomed with open arms in Berjis' village as they recognized her atop of Nani. She smiled, waving as she passed and shouted back greetings and promises to go and converse with people later. But for now, she made her way to the center of the village, eager to have proper food and rest for herself and Nani.

The Xano village was not so different from the Tenari, with the key differences being their proximity to the ocean. Where Hal had to travel at least an hour, just on horseback, to reach the shores of the island to the east or west, the Xano were a stone's throw away. The smell of salt water permeated the air, and something about the scent put Hal at ease. Much of their homes were constructed just with wood, since the land led to the softer sand, not leaving much room for sturdy clay like what Hal's village used. Much of meals were seafood-based — another reason Hal loved to visit, for a taste of something different. She had learned the hard way as a child that seafood didn't transport well in heat.

Berjis and his family heard the commotion of the village at her approach and came out of their huts with wide smiles and welcome arms. Nani slowed to a stop and Hal jumped down as Berji's eldest, Bea, came running towards her, squealing in excitement. The four-year-old was round and soft, her grip so innocently child-like as Hal opened her arms and swept her off her feet.

"I missed you, Hal," Bea cried, gazing at Hal as she set her back down. "You never visit anymore."

"I know, I'm sorry, sweetie. I've been busy. But we get to hang out for a little bit, won't that be nice?"

The girl nodded, unruly curls bouncing with enthusiasm. Berjis' wife, Celia, approached next with a soft smile and a one-year-old on her hip. Their son, Aiden. When Hal had heard Berjis was marrying, she had felt a sense of…loss. She knew she could never love Berjis the way he wanted her to. Yet a part of her had become rather attached to the idea of _being_ loved. She knew it wasn't fair to him, and she had come to be truly happy for him when she had met the kind and graceful young woman that was everything Berjis had wanted and needed in a wife. Someone who could calm his rugged emotions, not enflame them. It had been the first and only time Hal had wondered if she should have said yes to his proposal, when he gave it to her from a place of sincerity, a year after they had met. Could she have fallen in love with him? Could she have borne his children and entertained his guests? Could she lay with him and feel the adoration she felt one should when lying with another?

Celia knew of their history, but she had always been friendly to Hal. And today was no different as the woman hugged her with one arm. "Bea has been talking of this for weeks. We're so glad you're here."

"Me too," Hal said sincerely, although it may have been undercut by the faces she made at Aiden. Both women laughed when he spluttered over his spit, wailing his arms and fists enthusiastically in response. "I know it's been so long," Hal continued, looking back up at Celia. "Things have been…the last few months have been a whirlwind." An understatement if she ever heard one.

"Where are the others?" Berjis asked, taking his son from his wife's arms so that she may rest them. "Did you ride off again and leave them?"

"Why ask questions you already know the answer to?" Hal stated teasingly, promptly then taking Aiden from Berjis so that she could continue to play with him. "They should be arriving any —"

Hooves reached them and Hal gave Berjis a self-satisfied smirk, to which he rolled his eyes and grinned. However, her enthusiasm became strained when she remembered that there was one other with them that she had not accounted for.

"Who is the pale man that rides with them?" Celia asked, turning to Hal with a curious expression.

She swallowed. "A friend," she said cryptically. "Our village recently took him in. Amon invited him, thought he'd like to meet some of our neighbors."

"How wonderful!" Celia exclaimed. "I've never seen skin like his before. Is he from the mainland?"

Hal nodded stiffly, trying to keep her face composed so that her nerves on the matter did not give her away. "Berjis, would you mind showing me where I'll be staying. I'd like to put my things down and get Nani settled before greeting the other villagers."

She was being childish, she knew. But right now, it was the only course of action she knew to take. She knew she could not avoid Murtagh forever, but for the foreseeable future felt vastly reasonable at the moment.

Berjis eyed her suspiciously, then eyed the rider as the group approached. "Of course. Celia, please see to our guests. We should have an extra tent as well."

"I'm sorry if this is sudden," Hal said. "I didn't realize he was coming. Amon and the others really wanted him to see your village. They may have talked it up so you will really have to impress him, I'm afraid to say."

Celia laughed at this. "It is no trouble at all, Hal. A friend of yours and is a friend of ours. I will see to it that he is taken care of."

"Thank you, Celia."

Hal and Berjis walked off, shame burning in Hal's cheeks as she could feel the stares of the others on her back. Oh, Amon would surely berate her for her behavior. She could not say she would blame him. She hefted Aiden up higher on her hips, and nearly fell over when he comfortably laid his head down on her shoulder. She had not been as present for him as she was his sister, but she felt an acceptance in the action that made her weak-kneed.

"Did you have a safe journey over?" Berjis inquired, glancing over at her. He grinned, as if knowing what she was thinking at the bemused smile on her face as they both glanced at Aiden. "No issues with lovuk, were there?"

"Oh, no, none at all. Actually, they have been better behaved as of late. We think it was a tainted food supply. Are they still bothering your people?"

"No, not for the last few months now that I think about it." He smirked, shaking his head. "Let me guess: you went off on your own to find out why the lovuk were changing their behavior?"

"Not exactly," Hal said, wincing a bit. "I had back-up. Eventually."

"Amon and the others?"

She bit her lip. "Murtagh, actually. Our new friend."

"I see."

Hal rolled her eyes. But before she could respond, Berjis said, "Ah, here we are."

A row of canopy, white tents had been erected on the edge of the village, the forest behind them. Although often when they were visiting, Hal and her friends would sleep on the beach, taking in as much of the ocean as they could before they had to leave again. She wondered if she could bear it this year if Murtagh was with them. Berjis led her to the tent furthest away and they came to a halt outside the open flap.

"What are you not telling me?" Berjis finally asked, turning to face her with a look of concern.

She shook her head. "Nothing in particular. Why?"

"The newcomer, you seem skittish."

"We're…it's nothing. Just a personal matter."

"You know you can talk to me, Hal."

She gave him a soft smile. "I know, Berjis. And I thank you. But I'm fine, honestly. And the newcomer's name is Murtagh, just so you don't forget."

He sighed, sensing that she was not going to reveal more than that. "Fine. Do you need anything then? I can have Bea bring it to you."

"I don't think so, but if I think of anything —"

"You'll let me know," he finished with a knowing look. And Hal nodded and agreed, smiling despite herself. "Good. I know I don't have to tell you this, but my village is your village. Make yourself at home."

"So hospitable," Hal teased. "Celia is whipping you into shape, I'm impressed."

"Do not tell her that, it will go to her head."

"She hardly strikes me as the type to have an ego."

"Perhaps not in public. But her private one is inflated tremendously."

"Probably because you spoil her and the children."

"I do," he said with a knowing grin. "Go, rest up. I shall be around if you need me."

Hal suddenly had a thought, a question, and opened her mouth when the weight of it hit her and she closed her mouth again. Instead she passed him his son and said, "Thank you, Berjis."

…

"How do you and Hal know each other?"

Murtagh carefully hid his surprise as he finished pulling on a clean, long-sleeve tunic. The man, Berjis, was standing at the entrance to the modest tent Murtagh had been provided for the duration of their stay. Sam actually had family here that he would stay with, and the others were splitting two tents between the four of them. Leaving Murtagh on his own. It was a modest space, quickly erected around a wooden palet for the floor, a makeshift cot, and a small basin where he could wash his face. Of course, they would all have to bath in the river. But Murtagh didn't want to have to think about that yet.

Admittedly, with Thorn keeping to the forest so as not to frighten the other villagers, and with everyone else meeting up with friends and walking around, Murtagh felt strangely alone. And he felt more estranged with Berjis eyeing him suspiciously from a few feet away.

"She saved my life," he admitted. There was no point in lying, and it was certainly not suspicious. "Nothing more."

"And how did you come to stay at the Tenari village? Why did you not leave?"

Murtagh gritted his teeth, making sure to keep his emotions in check. "My business is between me and Hal. If she has not told you, then why should I?"

"Because I'm asking you to explain who you are and what you want with Hal. Why does she seem uncomfortable around you?"

That made Murtagh flinch. Even people who had never met him before could sense their distance. But the word 'uncomfortable' made him feel lousy. "Again," Murtagh finally said, "that is between me and Hal."

"Hal is my business. She is my friend —"

"And she is mine," Murtagh retorted sharply, his skin prickling with a strange combination of defensiveness on his own behalf and protectiveness on Hal's.

"I hardly got that impression with the way she ran from you today. I know Hal, and she does not spook easily."

The observation stung and Murtagh barreled past the man before he hit him. However, Berjis didn't allow him to go far, chasing after him and grabbing his shoulder, spinning him around so that they faced each other. Murtagh quickly noted that they were about the same height and weight, almost equally intimidating and capable of holding their own if it came down to a fight. Murtagh clenched his fist but held them at his side.

"If I think for one second your presence is a disruption to Hal's peace of mind, I will throw you out of my village without a second thought."

He made sure to slam his shoulder into Murtagh's as he left, his look of disdain only mirroring Murtagh's own. But the second he was out of sight, Murtagh's shoulders slumped with dismay as Sam approached him, his expression bewildered.

"Dare I ask what the bloody hell that was about?"

Murtagh didn't respond as a figure caught his eye. He turned to find Hal emerging from her tent quickly, likely eager to begin mingling of her own with Amon and the others. She paused when she saw him and Sam, and he quickly hid the pain on his face. Yet as he felt his eyes boring into hers, he could feel his emotions reaching out to her, desperately wanting to bring her close and demand the truth: did he make her uncomfortable?

Hal quickly looked away and sped off, and something in his chest cracked at the sight of her retreating figure.

Beside him, Sam swore softly in understanding.

…

Hal managed to avoid Murtagh and Berjis for the rest of the day, catching up with friends and families she had not seen in a while. It was good for her, she knew, to be preoccupied with something that did not revolve around the rider or her training or Ra'zac. She felt a calmness as she sat, ate, and drank the day away with sincerity and enthusiasm. On occasion she ran into Amon, Sam, Eli, Cado, and Ayo, but much of the group had gone their own separate ways to get in touch with their own friends. But she could not help but notice that Murtagh was not with any of them.

Supper would be provided by Celia, and the woman insisted Hal not help with the preparations. So Hal played with Bea and her brother on the floor while Celia cooked, and the two women talked fondly of a variety of topics. Celia inquired into Denu's well-being and the Tenari, and she talked fondly of married life and motherhood. As she spoke, the burning question Hal had almost asked Berjis returned, and she realized that she would much rather talk to a woman about her inquiry.

"Celia, may I ask you a rather…personal question?"

The woman continued to stir the stew over the fire, the hut filled with the spicy flavors of crab, shrimp, and fish. Her eyes flickered up to Hal. "Of course. Is…would this happen to have anything to do with the young man, Murtagh?"

Hal stared, incredulous. "How — how did you know?"

"I spoke with him briefly, when I showed him to his tent. He is very polite." Hal nodded. "But it is just a feeling. Please, ask your question before I begin making passing assumptions."

Hal swallowed, suddenly nervous now that Celia knew what she did. About who was involved. But she did not think the woman would tell anyone, not even Berjis. She had an air of trust about her, knowing when to speak and when not to about private matters. Unlike the women of Hal's village, who would more than likely tease Hal, then gossip mercilessly.

"How did you know your feelings for Berjis were more than just…feelings?"

Celia blinked. "I don't follow."

Of course she didn't. Hal wasn't sure she understood her own dismal question. She tried again, but her voice failed her. Sensing her discomfort, Celia ushered Bea to her room, and the girl barely protested at the sternness of her mother's voice. Dragging her dolls, the girl closed the door to her room and Celia got comfortable on the floor.

"If I may make a passing assumption based on what I've observed and heard so far," Celia began cautiously, waiting for Hal's nod of approval to continue. "Are you and Murtagh intimate?"

Hal's face burned at the thought. "No, no. Not in the way you are thinking," she clarified quickly. "But he is…he's kind to me. And lately, his kindness feels like more than that of friendship."

"Can you give me an example?"

Hal was mortified as she relived their private dance after the wedding. The way he had looked at her, the words they had exchanged. The way his hands always seemed to find her cheeks, her wrists, her hips, caressing her skin tenderly. Her heart was racing madly just thinking about it. "I'm so confused and I don't know who else to talk to about this," Hal finished, tears of shame and frustration burning her eyes. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I don't know if I'm reading too much into it or not. He is so unbelievably kind and gentle so I can't tell what he's thinking in such moments."

"Oh, Hal, don't cry." Celia wiped her face affectionately, her hands warm and soft. "You are describing the feelings of attraction. It is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's perfectly normal for all of this to feel confusing, and even a little scary."

Hal bit her lip. "But I do not — it feels like more than attraction, but not quite…" She stumbled again.

Celia nodded in understanding. "But not quite love."

"I do care for him. Deeply. He means the world to me so surely that must mean I love him, right?"

Celia's smile was sympathetic. "I cannot tell you that, Hal. Those are _your_ feelings. And love is a very tricky one at that. But I will say this: Murtagh _seems_ very appealing for different reasons. And if he is as attentive with you as you have just described, then your feelings are understandable. It is not wrong to want to be desired, and it is not wrong to desire others. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. If Murtagh sees that, then it is no wonder he may want more, even if he doesn't realize it himself."

Hal blushed again, surprised by such unexpected but heartfelt praise. "What should I do?"

"Do not be afraid of your feelings. Don't rush them," she added cautiously, "but allow yourself an opportunity to explore them further. You may discover that you like what you find. But perhaps, when you are comfortable, let Murtagh know as well. He seemed quite melancholic when I mentioned you."

Hal thought of this quietly and decided the advice made some sense. The overall nature of her feelings still made her anxious, but it also felt like a step in the right direction. A notion that her thoughts and emotions were valid felt empowering and she breathed. "If Berjis had not married you I may have." The woman laughed. "Thank you, Celia. I have been going crazy the last few weeks trying to make sense of this."

"Weeks?! Oh, Hal, why did you do that to yourself?"

"Because I was afraid," Hal admitted. "This is so new to me and I don't want to jeopardize our friendship. I just hate that Murtagh was involved. I know I owe him an apology."

"Perhaps over dinner then. Which is almost done, so you should hurry and change. I'll have Bea come and fetch you when everything is ready. It shouldn't be long now."

Hal thanked the woman profusely as she left. Her heart and mind were still very much at odds, but it was like a weight had been lifted. She must decide how she truly felt, but to know what she currently felt did not make her crazy, was a relief. But would Murtagh feel the same?

She found a private and reclusive part of the river to quickly bath and rid herself of the stench of the day. She hated bathing publicly. She feared someone would see the scars on her back. And now she had to be careful to hide her bruises too. Back in her tent, she brushed her hair as she began to prepare for dinner, picking out the clothes she would wear. She began to dress, slowly pulling on her skirt and a tunic with loose, long-sleeves.

"Boo!" Hal yelped in surprise, covering her chest on instinct as she spun around, Bea crouched inside Hal's tent, her arms up like a creature as if she had literally jumped in just to scare her. But there was no playfulness in Bea's face when she saw the still-healing bruises on Hal's body, and her expression went slack.

"Bea, sweetie, you frightened me!" Hal exclaimed, trying to keep her voice light. "Is your mama's supper ready?"

The girl nodded quietly, her joyful mood all but gone now. Swearing quietly to herself, Hal turned back around and finished getting dressed. But when she turned back around, Bea was gone.

Hal shouted for the girl as she ran out after her. She decided to forgo sandals as she tried to rush after the child, praying she could catch her before she found anyone of importance to blab off to.

Hal sprinted out of her tent, headed back towards Berjis' hut, assuming Bea would simply return home. She received curious gazes, her search bordering on desperate. She could not, absolutely could not, explain where she had gotten the bruises from. And she didn't want Bea thinking someone had hurt her.

Heart racing, Hal was devastated to turn a corner and see several pairs of eyes look up at her as she did. Bea whimpered as Berjis stepped forward, his eyes almost mad as he looked at her. His expression was no different from that of the others. Only the rider at least understood why, but he did not look any less angry about it.

Shit. What exactly had Bea told them?

"Roll up your sleeves, Halen," Berjis commanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Look, Bea, sweetie, what you saw —"

"What she saw was enough to frighten her," Berjis snapped. "Halen, has someone been hurting you?"

"What? Heavens, no! Berjis, listen it's hard to explain —"

"You don't have to protect them, Hal," Amon said, his voice low and tight. He was, at least, trying to maintain his emotions.

"Was it you?" Berjis said, spinning and pointing a finger in Murtagh's face. The rider jumped up at the accusation but Ayo was between the two men before they could get any closer.

"You're a sick bastard if you think I'd ever lay a finger on her," Murtagh seethed, eyes wild with rage.

"We can vouch for him, Berjis, so calm down before you say something else you will regret." Sam's voice was low and controlled, but even Hal's skin prickled at the underlying threat in his tone. He then turned to Hal and said, "Roll up your sleeves, Hal."

"I am not doing this. This is insane!"

Berjis stalked towards her, his temper flaring, which she had always hated. She backtracked quickly, but he had reached her a few short steps. He grabbed her arm so tightly that Hal swore as the pressure irritated her injuries. Her reaction only made things worse, and he ripped at the fabric of her sleeve. Hal was aghast, but even as she slapped him across the face for such an invasion, the numerous bruises on her arm was revealed.

Berjis' eyes went wide and a tense silence fell over the group.

"Heavens, Hal," Eli breathed.

She wasn't ashamed, but her inability to tell them truth without sounding mad made her cheeks burn. Murtagh approached her, his jaw stiff with fury. She could see it in his eyes. "We're talking. Now."

Hal could not find it in her to argue, especially considering it would get her away from the others. But as she turned to follow him, Berjis reached out and grabbed her wrist. "You must be out of your damn mind if you think I'm letting her go anywhere with you."

"Don't touch her," Murtagh growled, his eyes blazing.

"Murtagh, calm down. Berjis, let me go. You can trust him —"

"Not with you, I can't."

"Berjis!"

"I said let her go," Murtagh hissed. He and Berjis were practically the same height and build, but Hal had no desire to see a fight break out.

"As soon as you admit where the hell these bruises came from."

She saw Murtagh's hand curl into a fist. But Hal had already lost her patience and her temper. "If you both don't get your shit together right now and act your age I will string you up by your ankles and feed you to the lovuk." To Berjis she said, "Your _child_ is watching you right now; do not give her a reason to see her father get punched by her godmother, it will not end well for you."

Berjis, correctly, took a step back, his expression one of shame at the mention of Bea. "Hal —"

"I'm. Not. Done. Talking." He fell silent. "Now you have every right to be concerned about how I got these injuries, Berjis. I'm not angry at that. You've always been protective of me, and it's only because of your friendship, your child, and the fact that I will not disrespect you in your village that I won't hit you again. The details behind why I have these bruises are personal and vastly, unbelievably complicated. So, you'll only have my word when I say that there's no ill intent behind how I got them, nor are they Murtagh's doing. But Murtagh is my friend and, more importantly, he is part of the Tenari village. You will watch your tongue before shouting baseless accusations."

Before he could respond, Hal turned on her heel and grabbed Murtagh's hand, pulling him away from the chaos as bodies began to appear, curious and drawn to the sudden commotion. But Hal didn't notice any of that. All she could focus on how warm Murtagh's hand felt in hers, how nice it was that, when she squeezed his hand, he squeezed right back.

…

"It's honestly not that bad," Hal sighed.

"It's still excessive," Murtagh grumbled. Hal yelped as he pressed down on a particularly nasty bruise, already turning green, on her back. "'Not that bad my ass," he grumbled.

"They're elves. I'm at a vast disadvantage when we spar, why are you so surprised?"

Murtagh was quiet. His thoughts felt belittling, but the truth was that he didn't want to see any harm come to her. Even he had been mindful of where his sword landed when they had sparred together. But these blows…

"This is why you've been moving so slowly," he whispered. "You've been hurting this much and you said nothing."

"There was nothing to say. I didn't want to complain."

"Do Blödhgarm or Invidia know?"

"If they do, they did not hear it from me."

He was silent, his breathing having returned to normal despite his almost-fight with Berjis. Hal sat before him, having removed her top, the blanket to her makeshift cot draped across her chest as Murtagh examined the injuries on her back. She was straining herself, he noticed, gripping the material of the blanket tightly in her fists.

 _Uncomfortable_.

"At least let me heal the worst of them," he muttered, his voice gently pleading for her to give on this one thing. And the sentiment was enough that Hal slowly nodded.

He worked quickly, his fingers pressing on her skin and finding what pained her the most. He healed the bigger bruises, and Hal felt her breathing relax some as it brought her a bit of relief.

"Does it hurt anywhere else?"

Hal shook her head. "No, that's much better. Thank you."

He sighed. "Try not to let it get this bad. This kind of damage will only do your body more harm than good if you put too much strain on it at once."

Hal nodded. "Okay."

However, Murtagh didn't move his hand right away, his thumb brushing against the scars on her back.

"Thank you, for defending me against Berjis," he added, his voice tight. "I know it couldn't have been easy for you."

Hal chuckled grimly. "It is surprisingly easy to get angry at Berjis," she countered.

"…Is that why you didn't marry him?" She turned in surprise, her brows raised as she waited for an explanation. "Amon and the others may have let it slip that you two were once betrothed."

She should've known. She scratched her forehead. "It is one of the reasons, yes. Berjis was quick to lose his temper and jumps to conclusions at a startling fast rate. He's not violent, but you can imagine based on my personality that I was just as likely to shout back in my own anger. But he is vastly changed from when I first met him. What you saw back there is a man who married the woman he's meant to be with. Celia is firm, but calming. There were many arguments where I could not quell his temper so easily."

"She was very kind to me when I met her."

"She said much of the same about you."

Murtagh was silent a moment, his hands still on her back. "Why else didn't you want to marry him?"

Hal swallowed as his fingers began to run across the skin of her back, tracing the scars in a manner that mirrored how she had done it to him months ago. "I feared being trapped in a loveless marriage. Even as we became friends and he attempted to court me out of affection and not obligation, I was afraid. I felt pressure from both villages to say yes. When I was younger and watched how my parents were together, there always seemed to be a light in their eyes when they looked at each other. I wanted that for myself. After everything I had been through, I had decided that if and when I did start a family, I deserved for it to be out of a mutual love and respect.

"I could not give that to Berjis. I did not desire him, even though I thought him handsome. I did not miss him when he was away, even if I enjoyed his company. I did not feel the things I felt one ought to feel if —"

And then she froze, the rest of her words stuck in her throat as she realized what she was saying. And her eyes burned unexpectedly at the realization. She blinked quickly before Murtagh suspected anything, grateful that she had her back to him so that he could not see her stricken face.

"Hal?"

"What? Oh, yes, sorry. Just thinking."

"Was Berjis angry when you rejected him?"

"Uh, no," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "He was understandably upset and disappointed, but he accepted it gracefully. I think he knew even before he had asked me. But after some time apart, when I heard he was engaged to Celia, I went with Denu to congratulate him. We fell back into old conversations and began to talk as friends. He's a good man. I hate that this was how you two met."

"He was being protective of you. I cannot fault him for that even though I hate it was at my expense."

"As do I. I'm sorry, rider. I feel like this is my fault."

"I won't lie to you, Hal." His voice was serious, and she closed her eyes, waiting for his indignation, his righteous fury. Instead, all he said was, "I'm just glad you're talking to me again."

She let out a bark of laughter, turning to glance at him over her shoulder to shoot him a smile. He grinned back. "I missed you," she admitted, and the words hit her like a gut punch. Even though he had been steps away from her all this time. She had missed him with a fierce ache.

"I missed you, too."

The pace of his hands was hypnotic, her skin growing warm where he touched her. His fingers swept across her shoulder blades. His touch was sweet, seemingly the same as it ever was. Yet this felt…different. Exploratory. Like he was studying the smooth skin, the ropey scars, and the bumps of her spine. He followed her spine down the length of her back. And she realized then that he was close. So very close.

His eyes fell, and for a second, Hal thought he was staring at her mouth again. But then his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, and his head turned to look away from her entirely. And Hal looked down, blushing when she realized that she had been so caught up in the moment that she had almost let the blanket covering her chest drop, nearly exposing herself to him. Heavens.

"I should go," he whispered, his voice strained. "Before anyone questions why I've been gone so long."

"Murtagh —"

Hal watched his figure retreat with despair, hating that she had let it get this far. Hating her own cowardice. She collapsed back on her cot, her nerves completely undone. She wanted to explain herself — wanted to at least let him know that he had done nothing wrong. It was her stupid, confusing feelings. Yet she had no words to explain what she did not understand herself.

No. That was a lie, actually. Because her words to Murtagh about why she could not marry Berjis came to her. And she felt so stupid that she really did cry this time, laughing at her own foolishness.

…

The next day was focused more on actual business, Berjis, and Hal discussing the ongoing partnership between the villages. Hal was there on behalf of Denu, making sure to hit all of the points he had given her about what should change and what could remain the same. It was a fairly straight-forward conversation and they were done by lunchtime, having the rest of the day to themselves.

Hal went and found a rather private spot to eat, still feeling rather put out now that she was the one being avoided by Murtagh.

"Is this seat taken?"

Hal wasn't too surprised as Berjis smiled down at her sadly. She hesitated, but eventually shook her head. He sat down beside her, offering her a glass of wine, which she graciously accepted. They were silent a moment, observing the people as they bustled to and fro, coming in from the fields to their huts for food and rest.

"I saw you talking with Murtagh earlier this morning," Hal commented casually, taking a slow sip of wine and studying Berjis' face for any sort of reaction.

"Aye."

"And what did you two discuss?"

Berjis gave her a knowing look. "If you must know, I set aside my pride and apologized profusely for my behavior since his arrival. I realize that I had misunderstood a few things and reacted inappropriately."

"Misunderstood what, exactly?"

"His relationship to you." Hal looked at him blankly. "The day you all arrived, you went out of your way to avoid standing near him. You barely even looked at him."

Hal flinched. "Yes, we had a bit of misunderstanding and I was being childish and avoiding him. What of it?"

"Well from where I stood, you seemed skittish around him. I mistook it for fear. And I've seen strong women like you fall prey to dangerous men. And they sound just as you do when you defended him. And I presumed Ayo and the others had no idea. So, I made a complete ass of myself for all of the wrong reasons."

"Oh. Oh, Berjis," Hal groaned with understanding. She had mistaken his mischaracterization of Murtagh as either blatant ignorance or assumed Berjis thought Murtagh an easy target. She hadn't realized there was actually an attempt at logic behind his conclusion. A conclusion he had reached because of her behavior, driven out of embarrassment, not fear. At least not a fear of Murtagh harming her. She had never been concerned about such a thing, but could see how someone who didn't know better would assume something else. "Now _I_ feel like the ass. That my actions caused such a commotion; I'm completely humiliated."

Berjis chuckled. "I admit, I wasn't convinced until Murtagh and I spoke man to man. He clarified my misgivings, and he accepted my apology. Something he said he wouldn't have done if he was still the man he was before he met you."

Hal looked at Berjis, her eyes wide. "He said that to you?"

He nodded. "And I told him that that was Celia for me. I can tell by the way he talks of you: he cares for you deeply, Hal." She lowered her head. "And yet, that distresses you," Berjis commented, reading her silence carefully.

Hal rocked back and forth, needing to move some part of her to keep from feeling too idle. Too restless. Berjis, like everyone else, had learned to be patient while she struggled to put her thoughts together.

"I'm…I haven't felt quite like myself around him these last several weeks," she admitted slowly, as if testing the words to make sure they fit. Berjis nodded, and she felt somewhat encouraged to continue. "I care for him too, but lately — I don't know what that even means anymore."

"How do you figure?"

Hal grew hot, not wanting to voice how disoriented she felt in his presence. How her body ached in ways that made her both uncomfortable and curious when he touched her. These things weren't her. And if they weren't her, what were they? But if they were her, did she misunderstand the person she thought herself to be all this time?

"Ahh," Berjis said as though in understanding. "I get it now."

"You do?"

"You don't?"

"Do not toy with me, Berjis. Tell me."

Refraining from laughing at her when she was clearly distressed, he instead shook his head and sat back in his seat, thoughtful. After a few moments, he leaned forward again, his gaze steady as it held hers. "Do you remember when you promised me that if I could make you fall in love with me in a year, you would marry me?"

"Aye."

"And in that time, I fell head over heels in love with you." Hal blushed. Not even then had Berjis been so forward with his emotions. She quickly glanced around to make sure no one had overheard and misunderstood. But Berjis did not look concerned. "Relax, Hal. I love my wife. With all that I am. This is not a confession."

She blushed. "I knew that."

"And all the while I courted you, I could see how much you came to care for me. How much you came to value me as a friend, an ally, and a confidant." His smile grew tender, his expression soft as he thought back to years prior. "But for all that time, all my efforts, I would have given everything I possessed, _everything_ , for you to look at me, just once, the way you look at Murtagh."

She felt her breath catch, a chill running down her spine. "And how do I look at him?" she asked nervously, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it out loud.

"Like there is nothing and no one else in the world."

Hal blinked, tearing her gaze away to hide her embarrassment. She had more questions than she would have cared to admit. However, Berjis' words, although anecdotal in nature, had made a point that not even she could miss.

"It might not necessarily be that you're in love with him, Hal," Berjis continued, as if reading her mind. "It could be that you're simply attracted to him."

Her body grew hot again. "Celia told me the same thing."

His brows rose in surprise. "You spoke with Celia about this?" Hal nodded. "Then why in the heavens do you have me running my mouth? Whatever she has told you is right."

Hal laughed. "She has truly trained you well."

They shared a smile.

"I know it is your least favorite thing in the world to do, but talk to him, Hal. Be honest with him about how you're feeling so you're not this confused and hurting your friendship all the while."

She flinched. Hurting their friendship. That's what she had been doing this entire time. All the distance she had put between them, the extra steps she had taken to avoid being near him. And it had left her feeling emptier, not better. She feared who she was around him, but that was nothing compared to the loneliness she had been feeling without him.

"When did you become so insightful?"

Berjis laughed. "I have always been this way, you simply never had any questions to ask me. For once, I know more about something than you do." Hal smiled at that. Berjis placed a friendly hand on her knee. "I just want you to be happy, Hal. I always have. And if Murtagh makes you happy, then go to him. Not everything has to be difficult just because feelings are involved. Just think about it. And be honest with yourself when you do."

She nodded. "Okay. I will."

"And before I forget, I owe you an apology as well. Regardless of why I did it, I should have never grabbed you the way I did last night. For a moment, I let my anger get the best of my, and I am an ass for it. I'm so sorry, Hal."

"Thank you, Berjis."

He nodded, shooting her a tight smile as he rose to his feet. Before he had even taken two steps, he turned back around. "Oh, and I think I last saw Murtagh headed towards the beach with Amon and the others. Do with that what you will."

He left her then, waving over his shoulder as he disappeared to tend to his own duties. She sat there until she finished her food and wine, returning the dishes and washing them herself before setting out. She felt a weight with each step she took, her mind consumed with all the ways this could end poorly. But of everything she had heard and all the advice she had been given, she was only certain of one thing:

She missed her friend. She did not know if she could get things back to the way they were before. But she could not carry on without Murtagh in her life. Not like this.

As she reached the edge of the woods that separated the village from the beach, a figure caught her attention and she turned in her head in surprise. "Murtagh?"

He had been ducking down to enter his tent and paused at the sound of his name. Hal strode over to him, nervous because she hadn't quite expected to run into him so suddenly. She had still been running through what she wanted to say to him. "I was just about to look for you — Berjis said you were on the beach with the others though."

He shrugged. "I was going to go but, it didn't feel right." His face turned red. "You were the one who made me want to see it in the first place. It didn't seem right; my first time and you not there."

Her face lit up at his thoughtfulness, at the idea of them going together. "W-would you like to go now?" she offered, feeling nervous that he might still be upset and reject her.

Murtagh smiled. "Lead the way."

…

It was no exaggeration that the beach was perhaps no more than a five-minute walk from the village. And Murtagh spent every second of it agonizing over what to say or do next. They walked side-by-side, but not, he noticed, too close that they touched. And Hal still seemed nervous, but not uncomfortable, which he liked to think was an improvement.

However, when they reached the shores of Illium, he nearly forgot himself. The sun was momentarily blinding, the pale sand emphasizing the bright light. He held up his hand, waiting for his eyes to adjust before stepping out. He breathed, the wind whipping around him now that there were no trees to hold it back. The smell of the saltwater permeated the air, yet it wasn't overpowering, but rather soothing. The water was the exact shade of Hal's dress from the wedding. How had he missed this when he and Thorn had first arrived?

He turned, amazed, and found Hal watching him. He felt rather self-conscious of her gaze, but not because he feared her judgement or that she would tease him. It was like her eyes were examining him, taking him in piece by piece. She had always had a studious look when she watched him, like she was trying to understand him. But this gaze felt different. He felt bare before her, exposed. And he hated the way he didn't hate it.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he offered. She blinked as if she had forgotten he was there, which was funny, considering.

"Yes, please," she said quickly.

They waited until they reached the banks, the water coming up to their feet, before taking off their shoes so that they didn't burn their feet on the sand. They walked quietly, each taking in the scenery around them. With the lack of trees around them, he could not help but notice how windy it seemed, their hair whipping around their faces, Hal's skirts twisting around her legs. She walked with her gaze straight ahead, and Murtagh couldn't think of a single thing to say to her. Yet, though the silence was fraught with all that remained undiscussed between them, there was a familiarity and comfort in the silence. Hal was someone who he could very easily be in a room with for hours without feeling the compulsion to talk because her mere presence was comfort enough.

But Hal suddenly shouted in surprise and took off running towards a flock of brightly-colored birds further up. Murtagh stared in confusion as she ran them off, shouting and frightening the ones who attempted to return.

He noticed her gaze and moved closer to discover what she was protecting. He sucked in his breath at the delicate, baby turtles making their way to the sea. They were all particularly small, struggling to crawl towards the water and making them easy targets for the predators.

 _Thorn —_

 _I'm already on my way._

Murtagh snickered at the thought, but stood guard by the hatchlings near the front as Hal stayed near the back. Thorn circumnavigated Berjis' village so he wouldn't be seen. Hal shouted in surprise when the dragon appeared overhead, then burst into laughter as he scared off the birds, snapping at them mercilessly and leaving the turtles completely safe to make the trek home. It was, perhaps, a little risky, as they were not that far from the village. But the sight of the dragon brought an ease back into Murtagh's being.

When the turtles reached the water, Hal threw her head back and cheered. Thorn attempted to mimic her sounds, and she laughed at his efforts.

"You were bloody brilliant, mighty dragon," she said, praising him sincerely with a graceful bow. "May no bird ever make the mistake of crossing you again."

 _Will the littles ones be okay on their own?_ Thorn asked.

He projected the question into both Hal and Murtagh's minds, and even Murtagh found himself moving closer to hear her response, curious. Her smile saddened a bit. "It's hard to say. There's a whole world in the ocean that I don't know as much about. I'm sure, just like any land creature, they will face their fair share of obstacles. Some will make it. Some will not. But the ones who do will one day return to this beach, and lay their eggs. And I or some other mad person will be there to scare off as many predators as we can so that the young ones may have at least a fighting chance to start."

"You do this often?"

"Not often. But if this nest was here, there are likely others further up the bank. They hatched rather early, which is probably why they were so frightfully small. And smaller ones are usually easy targets because they're easy to pick off. But Berjis' village actually does an amazing job of keeping watch for the turtles. I've brought the children from our village before to help. It's almost like a tradition."

"Will you do it again this year if the other nests hatch? I would like to come, if so."

She smiled. "Of course. We'd be more than happy to have you."

He nodded, grateful. But he was unsure of why he needed to behave so formally around her. Hal began to look uncomfortable as well, staring out at the ocean and carefully avoiding his gaze. He didn't want this. Didn't want to see her stiff back and tight shoulders. Didn't want this heavy silence sitting between them. But he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to approach her and say or do the wrong thing that pushed her away again.

Hal turned completely away from him as Murtagh stared at the small trail the turtles had left behind. "What was her name?"

There was no context, no follow-up question. And yet neither were needed — Murtagh knew exactly who she was talking about. There was a slight pang in his chest at the thought of her. At one point, he had scryed her almost every night, wondering if she thought of him the way he thought of her. Such habits and thoughts had long faded, and he wondered what that meant for him now.

"Nasuada."

It was the first time he had said her name aloud in years. And he felt like it might be his very undoing. If she recognized the name as the queen's, Hal didn't say. Murtagh watched her carefully — well her back, since that was all he could see of her.

"Why don't you ever talk about her?"

He felt his shame creep up on him, bearing on his shoulders, weighing him down. He felt like he would forever walk around shackled to it. The thought that he had ever hoped to be free of it felt laughable.

"I love —" He shook his head and sighed. "I loved her once. And under Galbatorix's orders, he would have had me kill her. She led the Varden against him, taking over after the death of her father. I couldn't bear the thought of carrying out her execution, so I convinced him to let me take her instead. I convinced him that she was more valuable to him alive than dead. And he agreed, because I was too stupid to realize what I had done. So instead of leading her execution…I…I aided in her torture."

He couldn't even look at Hal as tears blurred his vision at the admission. Nausea rolled through his stomach a sob burst forth from his chest, and his emotions got the best of him as he began to weep. Nasuada was always his biggest regret. His biggest shame. He had been so far gone that he had convinced himself that he knew what was best for her. And until she had spoken the words — _I cannot forgive, but I understand_ — some twisted, small part of him had held on to hope that she might one day be able to return his feelings. But to say it out loud, and to Hal no less, that he had aided in the torture of the woman he loved. After Hal herself had been tortured by the Ra'zac. He was pathetic. No, worse than pathetic, he was sick. The fact that the same hands that had branded Nasuada with irons had even touched Hal. He had been worried about her having to ever wield Zar'roc and yet his own tainted skin had never crossed his mind. He felt like he had spoiled her. Ruined her. Just like he had ruined Nasuada.

 _MURTAGH!_

It took him a moment to realize the voice in his head was not Thorn's. He looked up to find Hal kneeling down beside him, tears streaming down her face. He hadn't even realized he had fallen to his knees in despair. She looked afraid, but not of him. For him. She was gripping his wrist, and he realized he had been pulling at his hair. But she looked too afraid for that to have been all he was doing.

"P-p-please don't," she begged, her voice uneven. He looked past her, at Thorn, who held his gaze with acute sadness of his own. Murtagh felt nothing across their bond, and he realized Thorn had cut himself off to hide away from Murtagh's grief before it overwhelmed him too. But he had let Hal in. Had allowed her to feel what Thorn could. No wonder she seemed so distraught.

Hal's hand dropped from his wrist to his shirt, fisting the material as she tried to shake him. But she was overcome with such emotion that she could not put the weight into it.

"I need you," she sobbed. "Thorn needs you."

"Halen —" he began.

"Murtagh, please let me speak." She cried even harder, and Murtagh felt nothing but contempt for himself. He had done that. Put her in such a miserable state —

"I said _shut. UP!_ "

He stopped thinking every thought simultaneously, not realizing she was still connected to him. He blinked at Hal, somewhat frightened at the fury in her tone. In her eyes.

"This ends right now," she seethed, still blinking back tears. "Stop letting him in your head. Stop letting him win."

"Hal —"

"Would you have tortured Nasuada if Galbatorix had not corrupted you?"

"No, but —"

"Would you have led his armies if he had not corrupted you?"

He closed his eyes. "It's not that simple."

"Nothing in this life ever is, rider. But I asked you a question nonetheless."

He shook his head, his eyes downcast. "No."

"No," she repeated. "It doesn't make it right, but at the end of the day, your actions were still a result of what was done to you. And I can't imagine, how _hard_ this all must be. To try and find an ounce of control after enduring something like that. I can't imagine having that sick son of a bitch in your head, trying to protect Thorn and yourself from his wrath. I would've been so scared. To not have the privacy and sanctity of your mind. For his words to become your actions, and for those actions to become your legacy when they were not of your doing. I can't even imagine it and I hate that that is your reality."

His face twisted in agony. He didn't deserve her sympathy or her kindness. And yet her words pierced his heart all the same. Because she did not look at him with fury or disgust, or even pity. And he knew then that he could never make this up to her. He did not think he could put into words how much this meant to him.

Hal settled down in the sand in front of him, taking his hand and opening up his fingers. He blushed like mad when she placed it over the top of her breast and he jerked his hand back, but she held on tightly. Then he realized with an even harder blush that she wasn't helping him in feeling her up, but rather trying to get him to feel her heartbeat. His throat bobbed nervously as he tried not to notice how soft she was under his palm.

He grew quiet, feeling how her heart pulsed under his fingers. Strong, a little fast at the moment, but very much beating with life.

"You did that," she said in a low voice. "Your very existence is the reason I can still wake up every day surrounded by the people I love. Your very existence is the reason Thorn wanted to hatch. Not had to. _Wanted to_. He was so _in love with you_ , Murtagh. He showed me, when I was ill. I _felt it._ Do you know how special it is to choose your family?"

She moved closer to him now, taking his face in her hands so that he was forced to meet her gaze. He kept his hand over her heart, feeling an attraction to the beat under his fingers, how it mirrored his own.

"That baby dragon, with no knowledge of the world, chose you. And he will follow you to the ends of the world if you asked him to. So please, if only for his sake, do not think so little of yourself. It breaks his heart. And mine."

Murtagh struggled to see her words with clarity. But it all still felt so hazy. Unreachable. Would he ever truly know such joy? Such happiness experienced by those around him. Hal gingerly wiped at his face, her fingers enchanting him. She had always had such soft yet capable hands. Fingers that had healed his broken body, gripped his hand, stroked the hair from his face as he fell asleep. He took her hand in his, turning her palm out and turning his head to press his lips to her skin. He felt a burn in his chest as she inhaled sharply. He allowed his lips to linger longer than acceptable before pulling away to curl her fingers over his, leaning forward to kiss her knuckles. Slowly. Sweetly.

He did this to her other hand, taking his time, feeling how she trembled when his lips found her skin. He felt so many emotions, his grief that his past made his time with Hal feel so hard. He always felt like he was burdening her, bringing her down with him. The light to his shadow. And yet, she never seemed to let that sway her. The darker he felt, the brighter she shone. She enchanted him, and all he wanted to do was stand beside her without fear holding him back.

"Don't let him win," she repeated, her voice softer now. "Do not let him have power over you."

Hal leaned forward when he was done kissing her hands, pressing her forehead to his. He could feel her breath on his skin, her lips tauntingly close. But he couldn't bring himself to close the distance between them as she nestled herself into his arms. He knew, without any doubt, that if he kissed her, when he kissed her, there would be no going back for him. And he wanted to, so badly.

"I want to be stronger," he whispered, more to himself. But he wanted her to hear him. Wanted to say the words aloud to give them meaning. So that they may take up space and find life in the air around him. "I will get stronger," he continued. "For Thorn. For you, Hal. For the Tenari. And for me. But…I just need more time. And if you are willing to wait, then I would like to discuss what is changing between us."

He feared her response, unsure if she would reject the notion. Reject him. But all she did was curl up tighter against him, making his body flush at how soft she was. "And I will be there, for every step and misstep you make. I will be there. And I will wait." And then, to his delighted surprise, she repeated her phrase in the Ancient Language, and hope and warmth blossomed in his chest where just a moment before, misery and doubt had attempted to reclaim him.

Thorn moved to sit behind them, curling his body around them and blocking off much of the wind. In that moment, Murtagh had never felt more cherished as Hal wrapped her arms around his waist, sitting on her side with her head resting in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

 _I'm sorry, Thorn. I never meant to cause you such distress._

 _I know, young one. And there is not much to say that Hal has not already. But just remember — no matter how far you fear you may fall, nothing you do will ever make me love you less. Hal is right — you are my rider, and I will follow you, always._

Murtagh squeezed Hal tighter, closing his eyes as a few tears worked their way loose, falling into her hair. _I love you, Thorn._

 _And I love you, Murtagh._


	33. Chapter 33: She Is Here

Having passed the rest of the afternoon on their own, it was dusk by the time Murtagh walked Hal back to her tent, which she thought was rather unnecessary, but put up little resistance when he offered. She was a little disheartened to see Thorn go, but reminded herself that tonight was the last night in the village, and she would see him almost daily once more.

She was surprised when Murtagh took her hand in his as they walked back, and she was so embarrassed by how happy it made her that she had to duck her head down to hide her smile. The afternoon had not gone how she had expected. They didn't really talk about what was happening between them. But she was somewhat glad that the events unfolded the way they had. All this time, and she had never understood the final weight bearing down on Murtagh. The guilt raging inside his mind. And all those years, isolated with Thorn — either keeping it from him or having him endure it as well — likely did not help.

She was just grateful the dragon had been there at all. Hal had no doubt that Thorn's very presence was often the only thing keeping Murtagh tethered to this world. And today, when Hal had seen his distress after he admitted to what he had done, she had genuinely feared he would injure himself, yanking on his hair, digging his nails into his neck. But when Thorn had opened his mind to her, had allowed her to hear the dark thoughts coursing through Murtagh's mind…something in her had snapped. A helplessness, that she didn't know how to help him. A hatred for Galbatorix that burned like it had the weeks and months after she had lost her family. And she was scared, truly frightened, that Murtagh might actually do more than hurt himself. And the thought of losing him was crushing.

She didn't know what would happen next. But she meant every word she had said. She would stay by his side as long as she was able and as long as he wanted her there. No, even if he didn't want her there, she would stay. Because that's what Denu had done for her. And Amon, and the others. They had stayed, even when she cursed them. Even when she kicked and screamed and hurled insults at them. When she despised them because she had begun to realize how much she loved them, they had stayed.

When they reached her tent, Hal felt dejected at the thought of being separated from Murtagh. He shot her a sad, but knowing smile. His hand still tightly holding hers, he pulled her into him, cupping the back of neck so that he could kiss the top of her head.

She felt the tremors all the way down to the soles of her feet. She could hardly resist the temptation to pull him down and kiss him herself. To relieve this burn in her body, to feel his lips on hers. But she knew it would only add to his turmoil. He wanted to get stronger, for himself and for everyone he cared about. She did not want to complicate matters for him now. She knew she needed to wait, and perhaps then, when he was ready to hear it, she would have figured out how she felt and would be confident in telling him.

"Goodnight, Murtagh," she said as he stepped back.

Something flashed in his eyes, but she couldn't make it out. "Goodnight, Hal."

She couldn't take her eyes off of him, loathed to part with him so soon. And when he reached his tent and saw that she was still watching, he flinched as if to move towards her. He didn't, but Hal still grinned at the gesture anyway.

As he moved towards his tent, she moved towards hers, keeping him in her sight for as long as possible. She was partially worried about him, yes. And she wanted to mess with him, if she were being honest. But she felt closer to him, something she hadn't thought was possible. And she cherished that, and she wanted to do more to show him that, so that he never had to worry about whether or not she was ever on his side.

They peered at each other one last time, and Hal chuckled before they both ducked their heads into their respective tents. Today felt like another step towards something greater. As Hal switched into her nightgown and collapsed into her cot, she felt a newfound determination. And she closed her eyes, anxiously anticipating what tomorrow may bring.

It only felt like seconds had passed before her eyes were flying open.

She didn't recall falling asleep, but she could tell by the stillness and the silence that it was late into the night. Yet something felt distinctly off, and it took Hal a moment to realize she was being watched. She turned over in her cot, sitting up and expecting to find Invidia. Yet she saw no one. But she felt it, a presence. She was not alone in her tent.

Her eyes widened.

"MUR—!"

Her voice left her, and the final act of defense Hal could perform was to increase the shield around her mind as she was slammed back into her cot, her body immobile. The only thing she could move were her eyes, which searched the tent with trepidation. She knew. Even though she couldn't see them, Hal knew.

" _Who are you?_ " a voice whispered in the air, falling and lifting with such softness that it sounded like something from a dream. Of course, Hal couldn't respond, nor did she have any intention of giving away her identity if she could avoid it. " _I had sensed you for quite some time. Sensed your magic, growing stronger. I almost had you. And then you vanished, only to reappear. I must admit that you are a difficult person to find._ "

Screams erupted from the village and Hal's eyes widened in panic as the sound grew tenfold. She struggled against the invisible bonds holding her in place, but they only seemed to grow tighter. But Hal dared not try and use magic, realizing that the greatest advantage she had at the moment was that the Shade — and she had no doubt this was the Shade — did not know who she was. And if she had no longer been able to sense Hal, then the wards around the village were working.

" _I wouldn't worry about yourself_ ," the voice continued, sounding rather nonplussed. Hal had no idea what the Shade could or could not see, could or could not hear, did or did not know. It was quickly growing frightening. " _You should be more concerned about whether or not your precious village will survive the night. I have too long denied the hunger of my babies. But I figured tonight could very well be a special occasion, so why not treat them a little for all of their hard work and patience while you and I get to know each other._ "

 _No_! Hal thrashed uselessly as she understood the implications of what was happening outside, tears burning her eyes. A shadow darted past her tent and her eyes widened in warning and relief as Murtagh entered. "Halen?!"

His eyes glanced right over her, desperate. Murtagh swore and ran off, screaming her name before the chaos of the villagers screaming drowned him out.

" _I sense his magic too_ ," the Shade breathed, as if surprised by it. " _Another magic user — powerful as well. But he is of no concern to me at the moment. I will get what I came here for. And you will give it to me._ "

Hal squeezed her eyes shut as the Shade reached out towards her mind. Hal gritted her teeth, tightening the shields. She could feel a vein throb at her temple as she put all her energy into keeping the Shade out.

Hal felt like nails were digging into her skin, like a hand was actually on her forehead, and Hal felt like her head would explode from the pressure building within it. But she kept fighting, seething as the pain magnified. She felt her body shake, the magic keeping her frozen growing unsteady as the Shade began to focus more of her energy in attacking Hal's mind. Hal doubled her efforts, feeling like her body was about to combust like the Ra'zac who had tortured her. But the more fight she put in her defenses, the more the Shade let her guard down on keeping Hal locked in place. And when Hal felt her arm loosen, she didn't hesitate. She let out a scream as she put all she could into attacking the Shade with her mind, managing to throw her back as she grabbed the dagger under her pillow.

Hal hurled it with all her might at where she thought the Shade might be, but of course, there was nothing there as it clashed against the tent pole and fell to the ground. Weakened considerably, Hal fell to her knees, her head pounding as she struggled to catch her breath. Hal could feel the Shade's disbelief and rage. But when she spoke, she sounded almost amused. " _That's the second time you've managed to keep me out. I'm impressed._ "

Hal reached for the washbasin beside her bed, her body feeling clumsy and uncoordinated. She struggled to regain a bit of composure as she hurled the bowl where she had thrown the knife. It passed right through, useless. Even though Hal could not see the Shade, and she had the distinct feeling the Shade could not see her, she _felt_ her all the same. Which seemed more terrifying. Murtagh had told Eragon there was no Shade on Illium and no wards that would be capable of hiding her. So if she was, indeed, not on the island, and still able to attack Hal the way she had…

" _Clearly we must meet in person. That's the only way I will know for sure. Until then._ "

The Shade's presence vanished and Hal collapsed to her knees, which were shaking so bad they would no longer support her. Her head was ringing from the pressure of shielding her mind, but it seemed she had been successful. She saw a shadow move past her tent and looked up just as a Ra'zac entered, hissing in delight when it saw her.

Disgust and fear welled up inside her at the sight of the foul creature. She hated them. She _hated_ them. But she couldn't move. She was still too exhausted from keeping out the Shade. Not that it mattered. The Ra'zac hardly took a step when a blade was thrusted in its chest, bloody and unsightly as it was yanked back out. The Ra'zac collapsed and Invidia stood behind it, her clothes stained with blood and dampened with sweat.

"Halen, what happened to you?"

"Shade," she whispered, forcing her tongue to move. Invidia's eyes widened as she rushed to Hal's side, wrapping her arm around Hal's waist and lifting her to her feet.

"We're evacuating the village to the beach. You will go there —"

But Hal wasn't listening, lunging for the dagger she had thrown at the Shade and plunging it into the Ra'zac that had crept up behind Invidia. She fell out of Invidia's grip as she went down with Ra'zac. She yanked the blade out and drove it in between the creature's eyes. It fell still. But Hal stabbed it again, for good measure. But once more, just to be safe. But how could she really know if they weren't even human? And her fear turned to rage as she heard her bones breaking, despite her begging and pleading. It had shown her no mercy. And now it thought it would just prey on an innocent village and she would simply _let_ it?

She froze.

The village.

Her arms were tired and there was a numbness, cold and frightening her chest. The village.

The village.

Hal moved like lightening, unfurling off the Ra'zac and darting back into her tent. When she emerged, she had pulled her boots on and grabbed every weapon she could strap on under and around her nightgown, including her bow and arrows. It felt awkward and clumsy, but she felt more level-headed. The village was her priority.

"How many?" She asked Invidia. Her head still felt fuzzy, and she blinked trying to clear it.

"It's hard to say. A dozen, possibly more."

"Show me."

Invidia stared at Hal, studying her. As if deciding Hal was now properly focused, she took off towards the southernmost part of the village. As they ran, she informed Hal of what had happened. That it had been Thorn who smelled them first, alerting her and Blödhgarm. She assured Hal that they had checked on her village first, telling Thorn to get to Murtagh and alert him as soon as possible. They had managed to evacuate the main part of the village, where Murtagh and Thorn were making sure the villagers made it to the beach while dispatching any Ra'zac who came to close. But they hadn't been able to save everyone.

"Halen, I should warn you —"

But it was too late. Hal came to a stop as they reached the initial attack site. And Hal felt like she had been cleaved in two at the sight of the bodies on the ground. People who had tried to run and found themselves ambushed by Ra'zac. More than that was the location of the attack, and Hal felt a numbness overtake her as she forced herself to scan the ground for one family in particular.

"Berjis," she whispered, glancing around quickly, not wanting to stray too long on a face. "Berjis! Celia!" No answer. "BEA!"

Unsure if it was a good or bad sign that Hal had not yet found them and they were not responding, she rushed towards the familiar hut. But Hal paid it no mind, praying to the high heavens that Beris and his family had made it out.

Please.

Please.

The door was hanging off its hinges. "BERJIS! CELIA!" Hal rushed in and immediately lost all feeling in her legs when she entered. She had seen, plenty of times, the cruelty of nature. The cruelty of man. Her village had been left to burn by Galbatorix's soldiers. But not even the horrors of that night could prepare her for the sight of the Ra'zac doing what it did best. Feeding. And Celia's wide, unseeing eyes, Hal knew, would never leave her. They would always be there, accusing. Blaming. And Hal would take it. Just like she had twelve years ago. Because she left nothing but a trail of bodies in her wake.

The urge to throw up was strong, but Hal couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, unable to look away from the gory sight before her, unable to hear anything else but flesh as it was ripped and mangled from the body.

The Ra'zac paused, sniffing the air as the wind shifted. It raised its head towards Hal. " _Massster_?"

She let out a furious sob, shaking as she curled her fingers into fists at the thought of being even slightly mistaken for a Shade. What was it about her smell that attracted the Ra'zac to — and that's when Hal got an idea. A stupid, reckless, asinine idea. But she needed to get the Ra'zac out of the village as quickly as possible.

She rose slowly to her feet, unsteady and unsure beneath her, but they kept her upright all the same.

" _No,_ " it hissed. " _You are not my massster. But why do you sssmell like you are_?"

Hal carefully walked backwards as the Ra'zac rose to its feet, following her as if entranced. Hal's heart was racing, but her mind was clear as she led the Ra'zac out of the hut. And it followed her, as though drawn.

"Halen!"

Invidia shouted in the Ancient Language and the Ra'zac neck twisted in a full circle before it dropped. Shaking, Hal stared at the body as Invidia ran up to her. "The Ra'zac are moving deeper into the village. We have to get you to the beach now. Murtagh and Thorn are there now but we need them fighting — Halen, where are you going?!"

Hal turned on her heels and ran towards the stables. "To the beach!" she lied, pumping her arms in an effort to cover ground as quickly as possible. Invidia shouted after her, but Hal ignored her. Murtagh and Thorn were on the beach — they were safe. At least for now. She needed her plan to work but…were the Ra'zac looking for her? Or were they doing as the Shade had suggested and simply gorging themselves?

After stopping to throw up in a bush, Hal was relieved to find the stables relatively untouched, and Nani, along with the other horses, teetering inside with frightened nerves.

Hal didn't bother saddling her horse. She didn't like riding bareback, but she could do it for the sake of time and innocent lives. She hopped up on Nani's, using her knees to grip the horse's side since she didn't have her reins. The horse was skittish, but obeyed.

 _Please let this work._

Hal pulled out a fresh dagger, small in size, from her boots. She held it high, shaking as she swallowed her nerves. She tightened her muscles, flinching in anticipation of the pain as she dragged the blade of her weapon from just below the inside of her wrist to the crevice of her elbow. She cried out, but she didn't stop until the blood was seeping out of her arm. Then she did the same thing to the other arm. Predators could pick up the smell of prey easy. But without fail, the smell of blood would often bring them running. Would the Ra'zac be the same? Or had she injured herself for nothing? She shivered at the sight of it. But she felt he wind shift, and she knew it was carrying her scent towards the village.

She waited.

It was still, and Hal held her breath as the first Ra'zac appeared. Walking slowly, sniffing the air as if unsure. Two more followed, doing the exact same thing. Now there were five. Eight. As they zeroed in on Hal, the blood dripping down her arm, she swallowed her nerves again and pressed her thighs against Nani's sides.

The horse took off for the forest and the Ra'zac began sprinting after her. The Ra'zac were frightfully fast, faster than she had anticipated. And, of course, they thrived in the night. Hal's arms were throbbing painfully, shaking with the blood loss. But she pushed forward because she had no choice. She would not let the villagers suffer because she had brought these demons to their home. She could not fight them, her fear still consuming in their presence. But this was, at least, better than doing nothing at all.

She yelped in surprise when up ahead, a spirit appeared seemingly out of thin air. Hal shifted Nani to the right to avoid it just as Ra'zac hit the nearby tree, having lunged towards where Hal would've been otherwise. Hal look back, horrified to see that some of the Ra'zac were gaining on her. Furious, Hal ignored the pain in her arm, firing her arrow and catching one Ra'zac off guard, hitting it in the face as it leapt over a fallen tree.

Hal turned back around, reminding herself that Nani was depending on her as well. But Hal need not worry. Another spirit, or perhaps the same one, appeared to her right, and Hal swerved left as another Ra'zac narrowly avoiding hitting her. She had no time to dwell on why these spirits insisted on helping her or who they were. But she was grateful all the same that they were, at least for the time being, on her side.

Hal urged Nani forward, her eyes adjusting enough that she recognized where she was. "Come on, girl," Hal encouraged, and the horse pressed forward even faster. Hal sat low on the saddle, looking over her shoulder every so often to make sure the Ra'zac were following, but were not too close before it was time.

She could see a bit of light up ahead, the sunrise beginning to break through the trees. The Ra'zac seemed to pay it no mind, but Hal didn't care. It only meant she was close to where she needed to be, and the sun was the least of their problems.

She felt something just barely manage to grip the ends of her hair, and Hal's eyes went wide as she realized she was being yanked off her horse. Barely able to react, all she could think to do was shout, "Nani, _home!_ "

She cried out just as the command left her lips, feeling weightless as her neck snapped back so suddenly and painfully that Hal actually feared it had been ripped from her body. Nani whined nervously, but she never disobeyed an order, and kept riding hard and fast away from the sight of Hal's capture.

Hal felt herself being thrown, and she cried out again as she roughly hit the ground, rolling and rolling until her back slammed against a tree trunk. She felt the air rush out and her vision briefly blacked out on impact. But she barely had a moment to try and recover when she was being yanked up by her nightgown collar, thrown onto her back where a heavy boot planted itself sharply on her chest, keeping her down as the remaining Ra'zac began to surround her, their beaks clicking and hissing to each other as they stared down at her from under their black hoods.

Hal could feel the open space behind her and knew she had at least managed to get them were she needed to be. It was a precarious drop to the water below, and Hal swallowed. The sharp rocks would be hard for even her to miss. But she had to try. She was all out of options now.

She couldn't count how many Ra'zac there were here on this cliff's edge, but it was maybe ten or so. Was that all of them from the village? There was no point in wondering now. Murtagh and the elves would have to take care of the stragglers. As long as this was the majority.

" _You are not our massster_ ," one hissed.

" _But you will come with usss_ ," finished another.

Hal set her palm to the ground, breathing and focusing on her magic as she spoke. After months of training with Murtagh and weeks training with the elves, her magic responded to her call much quicker now. No longer did she have to wonder why it abandoned her most when she needed it. No longer did it hide from her because she feared it. So long as she found the will to do it, it would come. She could feel the drain on what remained of her energy, but she forced herself to push through it. She would destroy every last Ra'zac, regardless of what it did to her. "Your master is a Shade, isn't it?"

" _We do not have to answer your questionsss._ "

Without taking her eyes off the Ra'zac, Hal searched the crevices off the cliff, finding every last weak spot to exploit. She dug her magic in as far down and as far back on the rock as she could, breaking it down. "What do they want with me?"

" _That'sss none of your businessss_?"

"I killed one of your kind months ago," Hal continued, as if she hadn't heard. "He seemed delighted to have found me. He claimed I was the one your master has been looking for because of my magic."

The cliff shuddered and shifted, groaning at the exertion Hal's magic was putting on it. But the Ra'zac hardly noticed, the wind from this height blocking out some of the noise.

They hissed. " _Magic, you say? What magic?_ "

"This magic."

The ground shook underneath them, then it completely broke off from the main part of the cliff. Her stomach flopped at the sudden weightlessness underneath her, the fall sudden despite the fact that Hal knew it was coming. The Ra'zac screeched in fear as they all dropped towards the ocean below. Large chunks of rock and dozens of trees fell with them, Hal having taken off as much as she could so that even if they scrambled for safety, they would find nothing but air beneath their feet.

She smiled at their panic.

And just as she closed her eyes, fading into unconsciousness, she hit the water below.

…

It was Thorn who spotted the tiny spirit amongst all the chaos, snapping Murtagh to attention as he withdrew his blade from the chest of another Ra'zac. _Look!_

Murtagh turned, grimacing as he wiped the blood off his cheek and followed Thorn's instructions. His eyes widened. Not one, but many spirits had appeared, forming a line back towards the beach where he had been ushering as many people as he could. A few of the nearby villagers noticed his gaze and, when they spotted the spirits, began pointing and screaming again, scurrying even faster towards the water to distance themselves.

"Rider, are those what I think they are?" Amon asked, breathless and covered in sweat and sand as he ran up. In his hand was a pickaxe he had grabbed from an abandoned hut they had managed to clear out.

"Yes," Murtagh said, distracted. He forced his gaze towards Amon, his throat tight, eyes pleading. "Any sign of her?"

Amon's expression grew hard as he shook his head.

Murtagh had to force calm into his very being. _Dammit Hal, where are you?_ "Let's go back to the beach," Murtagh said aloud. "The others should be back by now." _And hopefully Hal is with them_.

Amon nodded and they hurried back, Thorn flying overhead. There were not nearly as many stragglers, and Murtagh hoped that meant that everyone, at this point, had been evacuated to safety. He could not spare a thought for those who help came too late. Not when there were still so many others confused and panicked. Murtagh's own hands were shaking with adrenaline, and he kept glancing back, expecting to see Hal right behind him.

People were huddled in the ocean, crying and calling the names of loves ones, trying to locate them in the madness. Murtagh was grateful to spot Ayo and Sam, who kept to the front.

"Did you find Hal?" Ayo asked. When Murtagh shook his head, the man swore. "Should we go back in and look again? Maybe we missed her somehow?"

Before Murtagh could respond, a voice called out to them. They turned to find Cado waving his arms towards them, Invidia right behind him. "The rest of the demons have retreated!" he cried out, breathless as he reached them. "The village is abandoned. The Ra'zac are gone."

Murtagh turned his head, confused. "What do you mean retreated?"

"They just took off, all headed towards the woods like they'd received a beacon of some sort. It would be rather creepy if I wasn't so relieved."

Murtagh frowned, staring again at the spirits in confusion before Invidia asked him, "Has Halen found you yet?" Her eyes scanned the beach desperately.

Something in his chest tightened. Had Hal found _him_? "What do you mean — we're still looking for her."

"And I found her, _Shur'tugal_. And she said she was headed to the beach. I assumed it was because I had just told her that's where you and Thorn were."

"Hal's alive?" Amon breathed, hope breathing new life into his features. Murtagh had to swallow his instinct to feel the same excitement. He did not want to assume the worst, but for Hal to have completely vanished just before a Ra'zac attack of this caliber…? Had she been taken?

"She was as of several minutes ago. But it's been far too long. She should have arrived here already. And I know without a doubt she would've come straight to you, Murtagh."

Murtagh tried not to let his panic show, but he had been thinking the exact same thing. Hal would not have let him worry about her unnecessarily without reason.

"Something is wrong," Invidia said in a low voice. Stepping closer to him, she said in a low voice, "Even though you swore it was empty, I found Halen in her tent. She looked considerably weakened, like she had used magic. And I _felt_ it. The magic surrounding her was unprecedented. But it was not only Hal's magic I felt."

Her eyes were sharp, the information passing between them silently as Murtagh swallowed. "You said she was coming to the beach?"

"Aye."

"How long ago was that?"

"Several minutes ago, if that. She can't have gone too far if she's on foot. I will look for her and I will find her —"

Invidia's head snapped around, and at first Murtagh thought she was only just noticing the spirits. "No," she breathed.

Murtagh was about to ask what was wrong when he felt it, like a pulse in the air. The ground trembled underneath him and everyone glanced around in a panic. But he knew this feeling. Because the last time he had felt it, the magic in the air and the earth moving underneath him, Hal had been taken by the Ra'zac and —

He looked at the spirits, understanding dawning on him.

"Halen," he breathed, dread washing over him.

He ran towards Thorn, quickly clamoring up to the saddle. Murtagh barely had time to get situated before Thorn took to the skies, staying low to the ground to keep the spirits in sight. Murtagh stared in awe. He had assumed it was few. But below him were dozens, lighting the way even across the water to, he hoped and presumed, Hal. What was their connection to her? Why were they involved? The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, a sight that, on any other day, Murtagh would've appreciated.

 _There!_

Murtagh still had to squint to see, and his face paled when he realized what she had done. "HALEN!"

He was too far away for her to hear, and she was too far for his magic to reach, but there was no way that collapse of an entire cliff's edge, holding the remaining Ra'zac, had been an accident. He shouted when she hit the water, terrified she would be trapped under the falling debris. The Ra'zac screeched, flailing madly as they struggled to stay afloat.

"Thorn —"

But he didn't have to ask. The dragon nosedived towards the water and Murtagh counted in his head, gasping for air just as the dragon hit the water. It was still relatively dark, but Hal was drifting unconsciously on her own, a spirit resting nearby to light Murtagh's way.

Just before he could reach her, she was yanked down by a still panicking Ra'zac, desperate to find something to hold on to. Thorn slowed, allowing Murtagh to lunge towards Hal and the Ra'zac, keeping a safe distance lest the creatures try to use him for anchor as well. With the ability to swim, he had somewhat of an advantage, reaching Hal and wrapping his arm around her waist. But the Ra'zac was flailing, incapable of letting go, and Murtagh struggled to stay upright, hold on to Hal, and stab his sword towards the Ra'zac without hurting her in the process.

Frustrated, Murtagh released Hal and angled his body down, gripping the cloak of the Ra'zac who took a swipe at him. Murtagh dodged and thrusted his blade into the creature's throat, satisfied when it fell still.

He turned, panicking when he realized Hal was still sinking. His lungs were screaming as he reached her, but thankfully Thorn was ready, appearing long enough for Murtagh to pull himself back into his saddle, Hal in his arms, as Thorn sped towards the surface, dodging what little debris remained from the collapse of the cliff.

When they broke the surface of the water, Murtagh gasped for air as Thorn quickly took them to the beach. Murtagh slid off, dragging Hal with him as he hit the sand. He laid her down and immediately began to give her mouth-to-mouth and chest compressions. Before true panic could set in, Hal's body lurched, and she turned on her side and threw up water, coughing.

Her breathing was labored as she struggled to catch her breath. She turned her head, her eyes wide with fright. "The Shade!"

Murtagh felt his heart drop. "What?"

"She was there — but…she wasn't. I couldn't see her. But she…"

Hal reached for her temple but collapsed almost instantly. But Murtagh's eyes widened when he saw it. A half-moon cut on her head, in the shape of fingernail.

…

Hal woke up sometime in the night, delirious from the use of her magic. Her throat felt raw still from almost drowning. She was incapable of forming a coherent thought, her mind plagued by Celia's dead body, the stench of blood and death. Fear, mind-numbing fear, gripped her, and she covered her mouth to hide her sobs as guilt racked her body. But she couldn't hold back the heartache she felt, that she had done this. Perhaps not intentionally, but her presence had caused it. And she could not help but be relieved that it had been the Xano village, and not her own, and the thought made her want to die with shame.

She struggled to release her sobs, her throat constricting to the point that she felt she was going to pass out if she didn't get enough air soon.

That's when she felt hands on her back, smoothing down her hair and massaging her gently, trying to coax her into a relaxed state. She knew those hands and turned her head to find Murtagh lying beside her, his expression filled with sorrow.

She let out a sob of pain as she turned into him, feeling his arms wrap around her shoulders. She was so relieved that he was okay. But how many families had lost loves ones because of the Ra'zac? How many had kissed mother and fathers, children, and sibling goodnight, never realizing it would be for the last time? Hal knew how hard it was to lose a loved one to violence. To never have a chance to tell them you loved them, just one last time. To never say goodbye. It was cruel and unfair.

And she had brought that pain upon these people.

She cried for Celia, and the others. She cried for her own family, and her village. But she also, selfishly, wept for herself, until she had nothing more to give, but to fall back asleep in Murtagh's arms.

…

The next time Hal awoke, she felt slightly more coherent, but strangely numb. She recognized the temporary tent and knew she was still in Berjis' village. But she was alone. She wasn't sure if she had dreamed crying into Murtagh's arms, as the bed was cold where he would've laid.

She struggled to stand, her legs feeling as unsteady as a newborn calf. She glanced down at her arms, noticing that there was no sign she had cut them. Had she not felt so wretched, had there not been proof of where her tears had dried on her face, Hal would've wondered if it had all been some cruel dream. But she touched her hand to her temple. That excruciating pain. She would never forget how that felt, like her head was slowly being cracked open, ripped apart.

Hal squinted against the harshness of the sun overhead, unsure of where she was going but continuing to walk.

There was activity around her, people carrying jugs of water, bandages, and food, solemn-faced and frightened. Some wore more hopeful expressions, but Hal could still see the anxious looks in their eyes. A few called out to her, but she didn't really pay them any attention.

She realized where she was going long after her body had decided. The village center, much like in her village back home, had a structure built for the village leader. It was where Hal often met with Berjis to discuss official matters. She wasn't sure if he would be here, but it was the best place to start.

She walked around to the main entrance, only half paying attention to Thorn who was sitting outside. He raised his head, but Hal continued on, pushing the curtain out of her way, her eyes now having to adjust to the lack of sun.

Berjis stood before her, eyes filled with grief as he turned and looked at her. Hal paid little attention to the others in the room. All she could see was Celia's empty eyes, the chunks torn out of her neck and stomach as the Ra'zac feasted on her body.

Hal couldn't save his wife. She didn't even know if his children had been spared. She had wrecked his village. He had granted her access to his home as a friend. And she had needlessly trashed it. Had given no thought to what her presence in his village would do when they had no wards.

Hal fell to her knees before him, tears streaming down her face as she bowed before him, placing her forehead on the ground. The room was still, the only noise being Hal trying to hold in her sobs. She dared not ask his forgiveness, for she did not deserve it. But she needed him to know, regardless, how truly sorry she was that she had let this happen.

She soon felt a hand on the back of her head. She knew it was Berjis and she began to cry openly and loudly when she felt his forehead on the top of her head. She did not want nor deserve his kindness. She wanted him to be cruel and spiteful. She wanted him to hate her, to say this was her fault. To blame her. She could not bear his kindness.

"You did not do this, Halen. Please, raise your head."

But she couldn't. She couldn't face him. Couldn't face the damage she had wrought. She couldn't even begin to make this up to him. What he had lost…

"Halen, please," he said again, this time more firmly.

Not wanting to seem petulant, she struggled to lift her head, keeping her eyes downcast as Berjis took her face in his hand. He placed his forehead against her, his eyes brimming with tears of his own. "You nearly died trying to save my village and spare my people. Please. Raise your head."

Hal shook her head. "Celia —"

His expression faltered, and Hal felt her chest tighten. Just as she dropped her head again, Berjis raised it once more. "She gave her life so that I would have a chance to take the children and run," he said, his voice pained at the thought and loss of his wife.

Hal's eyes widened some. "The children —"

"Are shaken, but unhurt. As is much of my village, thanks to you."

She would not, could not, accept his thanks. But if she dared ask one request of him…

"M-m-may I see them?"

His smile was kind.

He led her to a hut Hal had not visited in quite some time. That of his aging parents, his father the now retired village leader. Hal had, of course, grown close with his parents when she and Berjis were in talks of being married, but they had been kind to her still when she officially declined his proposal.

His family was out back, his parents sitting in rocking chairs, quiet and contemplative. Berjis went to them so that they would not have to stand on their tired feet. His son, Aiden, was sleeping soundly in a crib beside them. He would never know his mother the way he rightfully should, and Hal hated herself for it.

Bea was playing with her dolls on her own, looking rather put out and bored until she looked up and saw Hal. She yelped in joy, rushing over and taking Hal's hand in hers. "Have you come to play with me?"

Hal felt like she might shatter right then and there, but she smiled. "Yes, I have. I promised you I would, didn't I?"

Bea sat her down, then situated herself between Hal's legs. "You hold this one," Bea commanded, giving Hal a female doll. She had black, button eyes and yarn sewn carefully into the head for hair. Hal used to do something similar when she made dolls for her sister, Thea. Hal looked up into the sun and blinked. The last thing she could stomach thinking about right now was her own family.

"Everyone's acting funny," Bea complained quietly.

Hal sniffed. "Did your papa tell you what happened?"

"Only a little. He said bad guys came and hurt people in our village."

Hal swallowed. "They did."

Bea frowned, perplexed by the idea. "He said mama had to go away for a while to make sure the bad guys didn't come back."

Hal wiped at her eyes. "She did," Hal agreed, sniffing. "Bea, sweetie, promise me something, okay?"

"Okay."

"Don't forget to give your papa a lot of kisses all the time, okay? They give him special powers," she added in a hushed whispered, like it was a secret.

Bea's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh," Hal countered. "Wanna see what happens to you when I do it?"

Bea shrieked with delight as Hal smothered her face with kisses, tickling her sides. Hal's tears fell incessantly, but her heart took solace in the childlike laughter. It gave her just a fragment of strength, that Bea could still laugh like this. With such joy and innocence.

"Hal, stop!" Bea cried, giggling as Hal released her.

"See," Hal teased. "Now you have powers too."

"Do not."

"Do too. I bet anything — _ohmygoodness_ Bea you're flying!"

The girl shouted in surprise and delight as Hal lifted her off the ground, throwing the girl over her shoulder and running around. Bea held out her arms like a bird. "Look papa! I'm flying!"

They accidentally woke Aiden, but Hal quickly scooped the child in his arms to console him. Hal didn't know how long she played with Bea and her brother, making faces and inventing stories, rocking them both until they fell asleep in her arms.

…

Dinner, once again, was a silent affair. With his own family needs to see to, Amon had insisted to Berjis that he need not worry about their meals, and the men had taken shifts setting up a fire and hunting food for the group. Where the mood had once been somber due to the nature of the attack, there was a new layer of pain with Hal having finally awoken.

Murtagh's chest seized as he recalled the expression on her face. Any confidence, any hope, any life she had been rebuilding the last few months had been completely snuffed out. He had seen it in her eyes. She had been completely and utterly destroyed by the attack. And he hated himself for thinking it, but the only consolation had been that it wasn't the Tenari. He didn't even want to think of what that would do to her.

Of what that would do to him.

But he dared not voice his thoughts aloud as he chewed on the deer meat Ayo had caught them. He glanced around the group, Hal's absence noticeable. Not long after she and the children had fallen asleep, Berjis had gingerly taken Bea and Aiden in his arms, weeping quietly, as Amon took Hal in his.

Murtagh glanced over his shoulder at Hal's tent where she slept. She had already been out almost a whole day. He had pressed Invidia and Blödhgarm about what spell she could've possibly used to destroy such a large section of the cliff, but they had insisted there was no spell they would have taught her, no combination of words that would fit. He couldn't figure out how she had done it, and wondered if it had been an accident. Her body simply sensing what she needed in that moment, much like how her magic had responded when she had been tortured. But regardless, he was relieved she was alive, marveled at her magic, and terrified for what could have been.

"Do you think Hal will be all right?" Cado asked, looking to Amon. Murtagh was aware that Amon had known her longer than anyone in the group, his proximity to Denu's hut meaning that he and Tena had been some of the first to assist in Denu's raising of Hal.

Amon ran his hand over his face, exhausted in both mind and body. Murtagh knew, because he felt the same way. "It's hard to say. Hal is unpredictable at best. Being with children usually lift her spirits, which was probably one of the reasons she wanted to see Bea and Aiden."

"Aside from torturing herself," Murtagh grumbled loudly. If it had been anyone else's children, perhaps he would have been less concerned with Hal going to them, but it was so clear the death of their mother was tearing her up inside.

Amon sighed. "I know. But when she was younger, Tena made Hal join her and the other women in watching the children. Even at that age, being around the little ones seemed give her a second wind. I've never understood it, and Hal's never brought it up. But I think she knew what she was doing today. But we'll keep an eye on her, all of us."

Murtagh had never before thought about Hal's connection to the children. He had always assumed it was because she watched them with Tena, Mai, and Sarah, and had simply gotten to know them. But it never would have occurred to him that they were just as much part of her healing process as they were. It was sweet and heartbreaking all at once. Did she relish in their innocence knowing that her own childhood had been spoiled by Galbatorix?

Murtagh barely managed to finish his food, eager to check on Hal before he went to bed. But just as he was walking past his tent, Thorn curled up, asleep, out front, Murtagh saw something that gave him pause. He stepped gingerly around Thorn and lifted the flap of his tent, his shoulders softening when he realized it was just Hal. He wasn't sure when she had moved from her own cot, but she was now fast asleep in his. Her back was to him, curled up on the far side so that he would have space.

Murtagh ducked inside, and he felt Thorn move to place his body in front, blocking access to anyone looking to come in. Murtagh gave the dragon a small smile, grateful. He pulled off his boots before lying down beside her. Hal immediately rolled over, burying her face in his chest as he dug his hands into her hair, pulling her close.

"The Shade was in my tent," Hal whispered, her voice sounding almost hollow. Murtagh's grip tightened, but he didn't respond. "She tried to break into my mind. I think I kept her out. But she wasn't here, not fully. I could feel her presence, hear her, even feel her hand on my head, yet when I attacked her, my weapons were useless."

Silence.

"She even shielded me from you," Hal continued, and his eyes widened with disbelief. "You ran into my tent, looking for me. I was in the cot, but she made it so I couldn't move or speak."

And he had left. He had left Hal at the mercy of the Shade without an inkling. He knew that was not why Hal was telling him this, but he felt so stupid. He hadn't even felt the Shade, and she had literally been right in front of him.

"She's strong," Hal finished, pressing herself tighter against Murtagh.

"But we're stronger," Murtagh countered, trying to muster an ounce of enthusiasm. "She did this because she thought you would be weak. But she could not break into your mind and you destroyed the Ra'zac. She may be strong, but you are stronger."

She pressed herself closer against him, tears falling silently down her face. Murtagh felt a surge of protectiveness as she eventually drifted back to sleep, her breathing ragged from crying. No, not just protectiveness. A silent promise. To himself. To Hal. And to those who threatened to take her from him.

Should any harm come to her, he would tear this world apart.

…

Murtagh kept very still throughout the night, not wanting to disturb Hal knowing she needed as much rest as possible. To have taken on a Shade and the Ra'zac alone was an astounding feat. Despite how much he feared for her, he could not help but be in awe. He hated that she bore the burden of what happened to the village on her own. He, Invidia, and Blödhgarm were all better trained, had actually experienced war. And none of them had thought of what might happen if Hal left the confines of her wards.

He only felt himself begin to drift off when the sun began to rise. It wasn't so much that he was tired, just that he knew his body, too, still needed rest. But he kept waking himself up, afraid Hal would vanish or another attack would happen. Despite his role in the war, he had forgotten how frightening the night could be, especially the first few days after a battle was over. The paranoia that, the moment you let your guard down, was when the next attack would strike.

At one point, he managed to sleep for an hour or two, which felt like more than enough. But he was woken up gently, Hal's fingers gliding through his hair. His body hummed pleasantly as her fingers traced the curve of his ear, brushing along the length of his jaw. Such soft touches, yet they set his body on fire in the most frightfully delightful way.

When he finally opened his eyes, Hal had moved so that they were eye-to-eye. She smiled, but there was sorrow in it. Murtagh couldn't see her blush, but he could imagine the heat in her cheeks in the way her gaze shyly moved away from his. He never took his eyes off her as her fingers continued to trace the curves and outline of his face.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Like they were the only ones in the world.

Her fingers glided down the length of his nose, slowly and meticulously. "That I wish I had been brave enough to leave with you when we had a chance," she admitted, her expression full of regret. "Then perhaps the villages would've been safe. And I would have still had you."

"You will always have me," he said quickly. "There is nowhere you can go that I will not follow."

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes before she squeezed them shut, clutching the material of his shirt tightly, the ghost of her fingers still felt on his skin. "I'm so scared."

He pulled her into his arms, trying to console her as much as he was trying to hide his face. He blinked back his tears, knowing Hal needed him to be strong for her, just as she had been for him. "We will fight this," he promised her. For that promise, he most certainly could keep. He would continue to fight this, for her and the villagers. "We will fight this, Halen. I promise you."

She looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears. She sniffed, slowly nodding her head in agreement. But neither of them mentioned whether they felt they actually had a chance at winning. Because in that moment, both felt too helpless to think otherwise.

…

"Promise me you'll reach out if you need anything," Hal repeated. "Anything at all."

Berjis smiled. "I promise, Hal."

"I'll check in as often as I can. If you ever need me to watch the children —"

"Papa, I want to go with Hal!" Bea cried with a pout, crossing her arms adamantly as she stomped her foot.

Berjis looked down at her with love and pain in his eyes. Hal had never realized it, but Bea was a spitting image of her mother. But with her father's personality. "Next time, my love," he said sweetly, tucking the girl's hair behind her ear.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Hal felt wretched. She didn't think this feeling would ever leave her. At least it wouldn't anytime soon. Holding Aiden in his arms, Berjis shifted his son to his hip, moving closer to Hal so that he could grip the back of her neck, pulling her in to kiss her forehead. Then he pressed his forehead to hers, sighing with the weight of it all.

"You have always had more strength and more kindness than anyone I have ever met, besides my wife," Berjis said gently. "I have always marveled at it. Remember that Hal. If ever demons may come — although I pray they do not — do not let them take your strength or your kindness. Do not let them win. Lean on your family and your friends. Do not fight this alone. Remember that you are not alone." Then, in a much lower voice so that only she may hear, he added, "And lean on Murtagh, Hal. When you feel your strength alone is not enough, that is when you should lean on him most of all. He is strong enough to bear it. And for you, he most certainly will."

When they pulled away, Hal wiped at the tears on her cheeks. With a final hug, he reminded her, "You are always welcome here. I would not have it any other way, my friend."

Hal kissed Aiden, who only cooed gently, very much unaware of what was happening. Bea was a little harder to say goodbye to, but after numerous promises of playdates and tea time, Bea seemed satisfied enough to go to her father's side.

Hal took a final look at the village, her throat tight. On the surface, from where she stood, it looked fine. Normal even. But the damage was there all the same. But it was still standing, which was more than what her village had had. And that gave her some comfort.

The others were waiting for her, already on their horses, ready to head home. Hal caught Murtagh's eye as she walked and he gave her an encouraging smile that made her blush. But she managed to contort her face into something she hoped resembled composure so that he would not continue to worry. Nani stomped her hooves as Hal approached and she ran her hands down the horse's neck before climbing up.

She looked at her friends, her smile pained. "Let's go home."

As they headed out, Hal spared one final look over her shoulder, where Berjis was lifting the hand of his son, making him wave as Bea called out to her, waving both hands in the air. Hal's chest tightened at the unfairness of it all.

She buried her face in Nani's mane, unable to stop thinking of her own mother. Just like Celia, her mother had given up her own body to aid in Hal's escape. And Hal suddenly missed her with such ferocity that she felt as if her heart my burst out of her chest. She wanted to be strong, like her mother. Like Celia. Yet she thought it cruel that Bea and Aiden would grow up without their mother. But she knew Berjis would never let her sacrifice be forgotten. Perhaps when they were old enough to understand, he would explain the truth about what happened that night. And about the woman who had taken on the Ra'zac.


	34. Chapter 34: Enough

There was a strange, almost unspoken agreement that night as everyone returned home, one that felt different than when they had returned after nearly being killed by the Ra'zac themselves. Murtagh knew it was because, before, they had been imagining what their loss would do to their families. Now, the men and Hal seemed even more shaken at the thought of what they would do if _they_ lost their families. So, after returning to their respective huts for a few hours of rest, Murtagh was not really surprised to see everyone walking towards Denu's hut, armed with dishes of food.

The children ran to Thorn and Denu, who kept them preoccupied with stories, the little ones nestling against Thorn's warm hide, much like Hal always did when she was near him. And Murtagh had to turn his head to hide his tears at the sight. Layla, of course, stayed near Hal, who instructed her on how to properly set the tables that Murtagh and the men had set up out back for everyone to fit. The wives heated up the food in the kitchen, gossiping animatedly.

No one, not even Hal, seemed as depressed. At least not in this particular moment. As the food was laid out, the smell delightful and overpowering, there was not a single sad face in the group. Thorn, who had hunted his own meal, laid near the edge of the table, Murtagh beside him. Hal sat on Murtagh's right, Denu beside her. They swapped stories, many of their adventures they had gotten into on their hunts. They teased and joked and laughed until they cried, and it didn't hit Murtagh until halfway through that he no longer felt like a stranger. It hadn't really dawned on him, how quickly things had changed. He would often keep to himself, listen rather than participate. The only person he had ever really spoken to had been Hal.

Now, the inside jokes no longer made him feel like an outsider. He picked on others, and got picked on himself. That's right, he remembered. This was his home now. Even Hal herself had proclaimed it during the confrontation with Berjis. He was a part of the Tenari village. This precious, remote little village, overflowing with laughter and love, had welcomed him and Thorn with open arms.

 _And to think, you would have left if not for me_ , Thorn teased.

 _Yeah, yeah, I know, I know._ Murtagh threw his chicken bone at him, and Thorn snapped it out of the air so suddenly that the children cheered and shouted for him to do another trick. Thorn backed away from the tables, raising his head and blowing fire into the air. Murtagh muttered under his breath, using the Ancient Language to convert the flames into fireworks. The adults shouted in surprise, the little ones shrieking in delight.

Murtagh laughed, happy to oblige as the children begged for more. They were especially fond of the ones that danced around them in the shape of butterflies. He felt arms encircle his waist, and looked over at Hal as she tucked herself under his arm. She carefully avoided his gaze however, and he wavered for a moment, the smile falling from his face. Hal had turned her head, briefly hiding her face in his chest, wiping quickly and faintly at her cheeks. And just as quickly, she was composed, almost no one the wiser except Murtagh. But she was still laughing with the children, and he did not want to bring down the mood by commenting on what he had seen. Instead, he kissed her forehead before pulling her in closer. Practically every adult at the table was grinning at them now, making him blush as he pretended to ignore them. But Hal didn't notice, Murtagh avoiding their suggestive stares as he continued to help Thorn entertain the children, unable to keep a smile off his face as he lost himself in the sounds of their squealing laughter.

When the kids all wore themselves out and fell asleep, curled up against Thorn, the adults began to clean and tidy up. It was a quick effort, and suddenly the hut was quiet once more. Hal helped get Denu into bed, shutting his door behind her. Murtagh watched from the doorframe to his room as Hal strolled quietly over to him. Her expression was almost unreadable, but there was something in her gaze that made him blush. And as she neared the entrance to his room, he found himself stepping aside to let her through. And before he could overthink it, he followed in after her, closing the door behind him.

Hal sat down on the bench against the wall, and Murtagh joined her. And for a while, they sat in silence, their shoulders and thighs pressed against each other. And yet, in that moment, it wasn't enough. Not for Murtagh. He glanced down and noticed how tightly her hands were folded in her lap. And he reached out and took her hand in his, relishing in the feel of her fingers curling around his, the hold reassuring where words failed them.

But still, it wasn't enough.

Murtagh turned his head to look at her, and Hal caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to face him as well. He inhaled sharply, taken by the look in her eyes. It was the same one she had worn the night of the wedding. Even he could not mistake the desire in her gaze. He felt his body come alive, as if at her command.

She gave him a small smile, and he could not tell if she knew the effect she was having on him. He wondered if she even realized how she looked at him lately, and that it was enough to make him weak of both mind and body. "You look like you are thinking mighty hard there, Dragon Rider."

He shook his head. "No, just thinking."

"About…what happened?"

He shook his head again. "About you."

He could've sworn he heard her breath catch. And his eyes briefly went to her lips as she nervously licked them. "What about me?"

But he didn't respond. He couldn't. He wasn't ready to put into words the fear he had felt that night in the Xano village, of not knowing where she was. Of not knowing if he was too late. And how, just hours before, he had stupidly told her that he needed more time before they moved towards what was starting to feel inevitable. The pull he had felt towards her for so long felt stronger than ever now. Because she was _right there_ in front of him. And he could not help but remember what she had once told him, months ago under different circumstances:

That even for the saintly, tomorrow is not guaranteed to be as kind as today.

That's what tonight had felt like, and he was sure that was why everyone had gathered. To remind themselves of the good they still had, even if it was just for one more night. To laugh together, and relish in the bonds of friendships they had forged. To appreciate the smallest moments, that they might cling to them for a little bit longer.

"Murtagh?"

Her voice was low and unsure, and he could tell she was nervous. His heart was racing in his chest, his mind fighting with what his heart and body so desperately wanted. He had meant what he had said: he wanted to be stronger. Someone who was fit to stand at Hal's side. Someone as resilient and strong as she. Yet he did not want to think of what could happen if he missed his chance entirely. He did not want his time with Hal to be forced or a series of missteps. For her, he wanted every moment to be perfect.

But he also just wanted her. And he wanted to start over and do what he should've done so many nights ago.

He lifted his hand to her face, enthralled with the way his palm fit and cradled her cheek, the warmth of her skin under his fingertips. He ran his thumb across her cheekbone and licked his lips. Voice breaking with nerves he asked, "Do you dare me to be so presumptuous?"

Hal stared at him for a moment, her confusion obvious. Perhaps she thought he was drunk. Then her eyes widened as she remembered, then frowned in confusion again. She studied him for a moment, realizing what he was doing. And he knew she was debating whether or not to respond to him. To take that small leap of faith into something completely unknown for either of them. She exhaled slowly, never taking her eyes off of him. "And if I did?" she asked, her voice breathless with nerves. "Would you accept such a challenge?"

Feeling emboldened now with her response, he leaned forward, his voice dropping as he said, "I would do whatever it was you wished of me."

She hesitated, but only for a moment. "Even if I told you to kiss me?"

He smiled. "Even then."

He brought his other hand to her other cheek, smoothing her hair down between his hands, enchanted by the frame of her face, the curve of her mouth, and the wonder in her eyes as she looked at him. Only him. Saw him.

"Murtagh, are you sure?" she asked. "I meant what I said on the beach. I will wait for you. If you are not ready —"

"I would do _whatever_ it was you wished of me," he repeated.

Heavens, she was so close now. The very air he breathed mingled with hers. The space between them felt alive with potential. With want. And Hal's demeanor shifted, her breathing ragged with anticipation as she said, "All right, then. Kiss me."

Her command was barely a whisper, but her gaze was steady, eager, hopeful, shy, sweet. So much life brimmed in her beautiful eyes, and Murtagh took a slow breath as his eyes drifted from hers to her lips. Embarrassed and nervous, he quickly closed the distance between them, kissing her tight and square on the mouth, pulling away before he could do something she was uncomfortable with. Yet he stumbled into her at the slightest taste of her, his body desperately seeking more. To run his fingers through her hair, his lips down her neck. To feel her pressed against him. He wanted to overwhelm his senses with nothing but her.

He briefly pulled back, stunned that he could feel so much at the barest of touches. To suddenly be so aware of how much of Hal there was to touch and explore. He licked his lips, which buzzed. Could lips buzz? They certainly seemed to have more feeling and nerves than he thought possible. But he took one look at Hal and knew that she had felt it too, and he saw how her eyes had narrowed in on his lips, and he could see the want in them. Another taste. And who was he to deny her? Deny himself?

She lunged towards him as he closed the distance between them again, their lips crashing together as her arms went around his neck, pulling him in closer. He burned for her in the worst way, his hands so desperately wanting to keep her close but also wanting to explore the curves of her body.

He deepened the kiss, Hal's breathless sighs making him shudder in delight. He dropped his hands from her face, eager to let them roam and explore the figure that he had admired for months. He cupped her neck, feeling her pulse run rapid under his fingers. Her arms were toned from all of her sword fighting and archery, strong and capable. Her waist was a delight, his hands falling into the dips of her sides before caressing the curves of her hips. Feeling bold, his hands slid between the bench and her backside. When he gripped her, she moaned into his mouth, not even breaking this kiss as he pulled her into his lap, needing her closer. And when he pressed their hips together, his arousal pressing against her, she gasped just like she had that night before the wedding. He felt a shudder run through him at the contact, making his knees quiver and his stomach tighten.

He was going to lose his mind at this rate. He couldn't fathom how she could put him in such a state of delirium. He could feel her trail kisses on his neck and jaw, whispering his name, her lips brushing against his ear. He turned his head and captured her lips once more, his tongue seeking and finding hers.

He wanted to take her right then and there. Wanted the satisfaction of having some part of himself between her legs. Wanted to run his hands, his lips, his tongue across her skin just to hear her say his name again. He knew he wouldn't. But the fantasies wouldn't leave him, spurring him on as he pulled her even tighter into his lap. He wanted to feel her skin against his as he held her, the heat of her body against his. Wanted to feel her hands run across his chest. He wanted to kiss her until they were both dizzy because they had forgotten to come up for air, so lost in each other they were. He wanted Hal. All of her. Whatever she was willing to give him, he would take.

"Halen," he breathed, her name now holding new weight and meaning to him. It was as if she sensed it because she shivered at the sound. She pulled away slightly, her hand cupping the back of his neck as she peered up at him, her eyes shining, questioning, wanting. But he didn't want to put too much thought into right now. He didn't want to worry about what this meant for their friendship or what others would think if they found out. All he could focus on were those adoring brown eyes, waiting for him to decide what to do next.

Murtagh's eyes moved down to her lips, recalling all those missed opportunities before to taste them. Time, squandered. But he had right now. And with Hal, he didn't want to waste a single second. Didn't want to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. There was nothing to say. There were no words needed when silence was the only thing he wanted to hear. Silence, along with their breathing. Hal's light gasps of lust that made him shiver with desire for her. All he wanted was her. And for the first time perhaps in his entire life, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Slower, waiting for the approval in her eyes to assure him that this was okay, Murtagh leaned towards her and kissed her again. With his eyes closed, he was forced to commit this moment to memory by touch and taste alone. Her lips, soft and warm and full as they moved against his, her tongue wet and tasting like the fruit of the wine they had during dinner. His hand brushed against her breast as he went to cup her cheek and he felt her arch into the touch. And he wanted to give her whatever she asked. In that moment, he would have given her whatever she asked.

And when he pulled away again to catch his breath, he saw how she looked at him. And he knew then that all she wanted was him. And something in him blossomed at that knowledge that he did not have to ask or doubt. He just knew that he was enough. And for him, that was more than enough. And he knew then that he would give her as much of himself to her as she was willing to take for as long as she would have him.

…

Hal had never really seduced anyone before. She had never had any desire to. And she was giddy and devastated that she had let her emotions get the best of her yesterday that she had done it to Murtagh. She had just been so taken in by the mood of the evening and the joy in his face and she had been completely lost to him. She was supposed to support him, until they were both ready. But she knew, had hoped, of what might happen when she stepped over the threshold to his room. And now she feared running into him.

She rolled onto her back, her fingers pressed to her once swollen lips. She had wanted that for so long. And even still, last night had not felt like enough. It had barely felt real. She wanted to feel him everywhere. Wanted to be completely and utterly consumed by him until she knew nothing else but his touch, his kiss, his lips on her lips and skin.

Hal swallowed nervously at the thought. Her emotions still frightened her in a way. How needy she felt. How badly she wanted him. All of him. She had thought of nothing but when they finally separated, breathing heavily, his face delightfully flushed, eyes shining in the dim lighting as he needlessly walked her back to her room, his hand in hers, before he leaned in for one final, tender, goodbye kiss that was almost more dizzying in its controlled gentility. And Hal had not been able to help herself, climbing into bed and slipping her hand under her nightgown, finishing what he had started. Picturing his flushed face between her legs had been more than enough to make her bury her face in her pillow.

And yet it still didn't feel like enough. But it had calmed her for the time being.

But now, as she sat up in bed, still feeling a bit of a tingle between her legs from where she had touched herself, Hal felt reckless and selfish. Although it pained her to remember, Celia had told her to explore, to take it slow. And while they hadn't done anything dishonorable, did the fact that Hal still wanted to count?

Unexpectedly at the thought, tears filled her eyes in remembrance. Then in shame. The one person she had been able to confide in with these feelings was dead. And Hal was stressing over a kiss? She was moving forward with her life while others had theirs cut short because her presence had spelled doom for their village. And yet, in a twisted way, Hal knew that kiss would have never happened had they not endured what they had. Something in her had snapped yesterday. A realization and reminder that tomorrow was not guaranteed. And she had spent the entire night in Murtagh's arms, wanting more, and wanting nothing less. The feel of him, the smell of him, the sight of him smiling all the way to his eyes as he played with the children. She would have been mad to deny how strong her feelings for him had been these last few weeks, let alone last night.

Hal wiped her cheeks before her mood took a complete nose dive, then slapped them three times in quick succession. She knew the fight wasn't over. She needed to stop acting like it was.

She washed her face and put her hair up. She needed to focus. She grabbed Murtagh's sword, silently vowing to never go anywhere without it. She crept quietly out of her room, not wanting to wake anyone as it was still very early in the morning. She had not discussed the continuation of her training with the elves, but if they were not prepared, Hal would practice on her own in the meantime.

When she opened the front door, Murtagh was already standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked as though he had been waiting a while, Zar'roc strapped to his hip. Hal eyed the fitted, long-sleeve tunic and jerkin he wore over it. He was carefully armed. Hal looked away, her face hot, as he stood up straight. Heavens, it was harder to ignore how handsome he was when he looked at her like that. His lips were still flushed pink and faintly swollen from all their kissing.

Kissing. What a lovely word.

"I didn't know if you were still planning on getting some practice in," he said gruffly, his voice still hazy with sleep. Hal shivered at the sound. Having to face him now, she felt even more embarrassed at the fact that she had used him in her fantasies last night. What would he think if he knew?

"I wasn't sure either," she said, talking to the ground. "But I figured if Invidia and Blödhgarm were not prepared, then I would practice a bit on my own."

There was a heavy silence and Hal panicked, thinking he might misunderstand her. "I don't mean I don't want you to come," she amended quickly, looking up so that he could see her sincerity. But his gaze took hold of her, and she quickly looked away again. "I didn't realize you were already awake. I figured I would let you rest after we…"

She cut herself off before she finished that sentence. Her face burned so hot she couldn't stand it. She had felt so in control yesterday, and now she was a bumbling fool. How he managed to unhinge her composure was baffling. And it was _this_ Hal she had been so afraid of before.

"I'm so flustered," she admitted, not wanting him to think she regretted any of what happened. "I've never done anything like that before and now I don't even know how to look at you properly without thinking about it."

He moved so that he was standing closer to her. In a low tone, he asked, "Thinking about what?"

She finally looked up, if only to glare at him. "You know what, rider."

He grinned. Yes, he did know what. "I still want to hear you say it."

Her body quivered in delight. She knew he was just teasing her, making her say 'kiss.' But that wouldn't be the complete truth. She wasn't just thinking about _it_ and equating it to the kiss. _It_ was how his lips felt on hers, soft like flower petals, quietly commanding without being forceful. His tongue so suggestive between her lips that she had imagined how it would feel between her legs. _It_ was how his hands were teasing and cruel, the way they gripped her and stroked her only through the top of her clothes and never her skin directly. His hips, pressing between her legs. _It_ was the feel of his arousal, knowing how badly he wanted her. _It_ was how all-consuming he was to her now, how much it scared her, and how badly she wanted him anyway.

And she ached for him in places that would make him blush if he knew. Places she didn't know could ache without causing pain, but pleasure.

"Hal," he whispered, his lips by her ear. She shivered at the sound. He was waiting.

She turned her head to meet his gaze. "Without thinking about how good you made me feel. And wondering when I will get to have you again."

The growl that erupted from the back of his throat was far from polite. "Do not say such things when I'm trying to be a gentleman. Otherwise I may take you right here and now."

She felt a fire between her legs at the thought as her eyes fluttered close in desire. "I do not think I would mind being taken by you right here. Or anywhere else for that matter."

He kissed her without hesitation, his tongue making a fool out of her once again. The kiss was hard and deep, but it was over quickly to her dismay. However, his hands still held on to the back of her head as they struggled to catch their breath.

"I was afraid that you may have come to regret it," he admitted, his voice shy and soft.

She shook her head. "I just wish I'd had the courage to do it sooner. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it."

Murtagh kissed her again, sweetly, his sentiments mirroring hers. "Let's practice on our own today. I don't feel like sharing you right now."

Hal had not sparred with Murtagh since the elves took over her training. She was surprised by how nervous she felt as they circled one another in their usual spot in the woods. She watched his every move, but now she didn't know if it was because she was watching for his attack or simply watching him.

She breathed. She needed to focus.

Murtagh ran towards her, plunging Zar'roc towards her right hip. She deflected and he quickly spun on his heel, using the momentum of his own attack to go for her left. Hal dropped to her knees, avoiding the blow altogether, knowing it would be faster to dodge it than trying to bring her sword all the way around her body's other side.

Even though it had only been a few weeks, Hal could see where her training with Invidia was paying off. As strong as Murtagh was, Invidia was still an elf and much stronger. Her blows had forced Hal to really exert herself when it came to blocking. By comparison, while Murtagh's blows were still a force to be reckoned with, they felt much more manageable than they had before. Hal felt much more confident in her abilities to deflect his attacks.

Where Murtagh attacked with strength, Hal attacked with speed. Their swords clashed loudly, an explosion of sound that seemed to shatter the silence of the forest around them. Although Murtagh had years of practice, it helped that he and Hal had not sparred in so long. While she had been learning so many new maneuvers and steps from Invidia that she had lost count of the number of combinations, she could still recall many of Murtagh's. However, just because some of his moves were more predictable than others, didn't make him any less challenging of an opponent.

Their footwork was sharp, their blows quick. Back and forth, back and forth, they danced around each other like it was a game. Murtagh was grinning at the challenge, pride and arousal dancing in his eyes. Hal was so caught off guard by the expression that she nearly stumbled and lost her footing. Murtagh took advantage of her slipup, thrusting his blade towards her. However, Hal used her own momentum to turn her fall into an angled kick, hitting him in the chest and forcing him back, giving herself time to regain her composure.

But only slightly. He seemed even more impressed with her ability to improvise, and lunged for her again, his sword held high. He rained down blow after blow, and Hal met his sword each and every time, not unaware of the fact that he was using his strength to lead her towards the water. But his attacks came too quickly for her to move in any other direction but backwards.

Thinking quickly, she thought less of what she could do with her sword, and more of how she could use her body. Waiting for the right opening. As his arm prepared to come down, leading another strike, Hal tossed her blade from her right hand to her left. Murtagh's eyes went wide with surprise and delight, and Hal had to struggle not to grin at how much he was actually enjoying fighting her. She blocked the blow with her left, which still wasn't up to par with her right, but capable nonetheless in surprise attacks like this. She wrapped her right arm around Murtagh's arm, holding it tightly in place as she swung her legs up, wrapping them around his torso and neck. She twisted her body, using his own weight and momentum from the swing against him as she flipped him off his feet and onto his back.

Unfortunately, he was well trained enough to continue holding on tightly to his sword, but he was still somewhat stunned as the air left his lungs. Hal had just enough seconds to roll away from him, stumbling a bit as she got to her feet, but able to put some distance between her and Murtagh, moving so that she was no longer at risk of the drop to the water below.

He began to laugh as he climbed to his feet, tossing Zar'roc back and forth between his hands. "You're really enjoying this aren't you?" Hal breathed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Immensely."

Hal attacked first this time, and on they continued. Sweat poured down their sides, dripping into their eyes. Their clothes clung to them like a second skin. But Hal began to tire, her arms shaking from exertion, her grip becoming weaker. Even when she was able to switch hands, trying to give her right hand a break, it wasn't enough. Her fights with Invidia often didn't last this long because the stamina of an elf was hardly comparable. Hal was exhausted, but she wasn't ready to give in yet.

However, she never anticipated Murtagh getting a second wind, using it to take advantage of how she had weakened. His strikes became more forceful, his eyes sharp as he lunged for her head and then, when she blocked it, ducked down and swung for her legs. Hal swung her sword down, narrowly avoiding hitting him, but managing to deflect his attack once more, gritting her teeth as she held off against him, her sword and arm at an awkward angle.

And that's where he had her.

Not anticipating he would have enough momentum to carry him again, once she blocked his attacked, he swung back, turning sharply on his heel as he raised his weapon. Hal only had a moment to register what he had done, and it didn't give her any time to raise her sword. He froze, inches from her neck, demonstrating just how much control and precision went into every attack. Hal was panting, her body shaking as she let the sword fall from her hands in defeat.

Murtagh had won again. But at least, this time, she was still standing.

Murtagh was red in the face, but, Hal noticed, his hand was still steady. In that moment, she began to realize how much further she still had to go before she would best him in a sparring session. Her heart was racing in her chest and she struggled to remain standing. She had lost, but she had lost on her feet. She did not want to collapse to her knees, not even with Murtagh.

Lowering Zar'roc to his side, Murtagh stepped back still grinning at Hal from ear to ear. Unable to speak while she tried to catch her breath, Hal began to walk like Invidia would normally instruct her to, so that she was less tempted to collapse and she could move her muscles about. She put her hands on her hips, but hardly took one step when Murtagh grabbed her arm and swung her body into his. His hand clasped on to the back of her neck. His nose nuzzled hers, his lips breadths away from hers. His hand moved to cup her cheek, but he didn't kiss her.

Hal had to look away, the fear of losing herself in him returning, even stronger than before. Hating herself for knowing she was about to ruin the mood, she asked, "What are we doing, rider?"

To her surprise, he didn't recoil or seem put out by her question. He shook his head. "I don't know. I honestly don't know. All I know is that, aside from Thorn, you are the most important thing in my life. And after what happened to Berjis' village, I'm tired of keeping you at arm's length." As if to emphasis his point, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tighter into him. Hal struggled not to smile, failing miserably. He grinned.

Unable to resist, she leaned up and kissed him. Sweet and slow. When she felt that he wanted more, she pulled away, giving him a knowing look. "We should…I don't know. At least talk about this or something."

He raised a single brow, his expression amused. But he nodded. "What do you want to talk about?"

She flushed, not quite having expected him to throw it back to her so quickly. "Well," she said slowly, feeling rather embarrassed again, "you realize we can't actually…consummate anything, right?"

He sighed with feigned frustration. "Dammit, there go my dinner plans."

She moved to elbow him in the stomach and he jumped back to avoid her blow, laughing. She was completely smitten with that smile of his, and could only muster up enough irritation to playfully roll her eyes as he took her in his arms once more. Besides, it's not like she hadn't thought about it. But it wasn't a risk she was willing to take. Not yet anyway.

"I'm sorry, I'll be serious now," he said, kissing her forehead.

As much as she wanted to stay in his embrace, she was getting flustered, this time actually from the heat. She took his hand and walked so that they could sit by the water and cool off properly. She cupped her hands and took a few sips of water from the spring before splashing her face and the back of her neck. Murtagh did the same, and only when they had both sat back, their breathing finally even and smooth, did Hal speak honestly and openly.

"I admit that, after the wedding, I didn't understand my feelings towards you," she began slowly. Murtagh listened intently, facing her, his hands on his legs. "You are, without a doubt, the closest I've ever gotten to anyone in my entire life. You know things about me that I expected to take to my grave. I cherish you as a friend, first and foremost. Always. But at the wedding…" She shook her head, knowing better. "No, even before the wedding, it was like your friendship suddenly didn't feel like enough. And I felt anxious and selfish and confused and for a moment, at the end of the wedding, I realized how much those feelings frightened me. And I think I partially feared that my feelings were stronger than yours, or that I was misunderstanding your compassion and that you would reject me. And I didn't want to risk losing you. And I thought, if I avoided you, maybe the feelings would go away."

She could tell Murtagh was uncomfortable at the thought. Her expression softened as she leaned over and took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly. When she leaned back, his fingers lingered for just a moment before letting her go.

"You must understand," she continued, "I've never really felt like this for anyone before you. After I came here, it was still hard to get close to people. And even when I did, I still kept them at arms-length for my own peace of mind. Until you, that is." She smiled sadly. "I regret avoiding you afterwards. I'm not used to feeling so…attached, to another person like this. I'm still not. And I'm still feeling very confused, lusting after my friend. So to speak." She blushed. "But those are my feelings."

Murtagh took a deep breath, his face seeming more relaxed. "I feel I must take some of the blame for your reaction. In hindsight, I realized that I came on too strong. Touching you the way I did. I admit that my feelings for you hit me rather unexpectedly and I didn't know how to properly handle them either. I'm sorry. I never intended to make you feel uncomfortable or doubtful of our friendship. It's just as important to me as it is to you."

Hal breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I must confess, Hal, that I cannot help but look at you like the woman you are and wonder what it would be like to bed you," Murtagh continued, his eyes boring into hers as he spoke. Hal felt her body react in a manner that made her face burn hot, and she swallowed nervously as she tried to keep her fantasies from last night out of her head and failing. Miserably.

"Of course, I don't say that to mean I'm just going to have my way with you," he added quickly. She wished they had not sparred beforehand. The sight of his cheeks — crimson from nerves rather than exercise — as he stumbled over his words would have been dazzling to behold. "I will do right by you, Hal. Please know that. When all is said and done, if you'd rather we still wait, I will wait. If you want me to forget this ever happened and never speak of it again —"

"No!" she said quickly, hating herself for how desperate she sounded at the thought. But she could not simply forget his kisses. His hands on her back, his hips pressing into hers. No. She did not want to simply forget it ever happened and never speak of it again. "No," she repeated, her voice calmer.

She could see the tension leave his shoulders as he slowly crept closer, emboldened, hopeful, at her response. "Then tell me what you want, Hal. Tell me, and I will do exactly as you say."

The command made her blush, as she was not prepared for him to let her decide the fate of their relationship. It felt selfish to say she wanted him, even though it was the obvious truth. It felt greedy to want the physical pleasure of him despite the fact that they weren't married. But then, this was the only logical solution. Right?

"I just want you," she breathed, unable to fathom actually saying it aloud. And yet there it was. She felt better for it and slightly embarrassed. "Typical friendship with you will not be enough for me anymore. I want your kisses and your touch. I want to feel overwhelmed by you in every possible way imaginable."

He obviously hadn't been expecting that, and let out a low sound from the back of his throat that made her shiver with delight. She smiled, not thinking her words would evoke such a reaction. "And what do you want?" she asked him carefully.

"What do I want?" She nodded, biting her lip as he took her face in his hands. He made sure her eyes were on his, and Hal was holding her breath as he said, "I want to overwhelm you in every possible way imaginable."

The sound that escaped her was the furthest thing from polite Hal had ever uttered. Which was truly saying something, if she were being honest. Murtagh crashed his lips onto hers, guiding her until she was lying on her back. Hal parted her legs so that he may fit his body between them, pressing his hips against hers. Her eyes fluttered as his length pressed against her and another whine escaped her. Heavens help her, she was getting her wish faster than she anticipated. Her blood was roaring in her ears as her mind tried to process what her body was feeling. And she felt it all, his fingers as they reached under the bottom of her top, his hands spreading across the span of her back as he pulled her tighter into his chest. His hands alone could be her very undoing, so suggestive, gentle, and strong. She wrapped her arms around his neck for balance.

He deepened the kiss, their lips battling for control. The ache between her legs began to grow worse as he ran his tongue over her bottom lip before taking it between his teeth, teasing her with the gentlest of nibbles before kissing her again. His tongue found hers, stroking it playfully before pulling back, providing only the barest of touches until she sought him out, desperate for more. She began to whine against his mouth, her center beginning to throb painfully for attention. She imagined what it would feel like if he touched her. How she would sink into him. How his fingers would feel between her legs.

She could feel herself becoming more aggressive, desperate for more. She craved the touch of his lips on her skin, not just on her lips. She angled her head just slightly, hating to break the kiss but melting with delight when he took the hint and kissed the length of her neck and shoulders. Her hands gripped his upper arms for support, squeezing his biceps and imagining how the muscles must be flexing, tightening under the sleeves of his tunic.

But his pace began to slow as he bit and sucked on the top of her chest, evoking breathy sighs from Hal. And he raised his head, kissing her once more, deep and deliriously until he finally pulled away, panting, resting his forehead against hers.

"We should stop," he said with a groan that indicated he wanted to do anything but.

He let Hal roll him over as she kissed him once more for good measure. "Why? Do I tempt you, _Shur'tugal_?"

The noise he made was so utterly delightful and lascivious that Hal vowed to use the Ancient Language against him more often.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," she teased with a straight face.

He glared at her and she grinned as he sat up, making sure she continued to straddle his waist. Hal wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in close. "Is it silly," he asked in a low voice, "to admit how happy you make me?"

She shook her head, beaming at the thought. "No. No, it's not."

He smiled, taking her face in his hands. "Halen. You make me unbelievably happy."

She kissed him hard, torn between needing him and wanting him. She kissed him until she forgot her practice, forgot her chores, forgot her worries, and forgot her fears. She kissed him until there was nothing else occupying her thoughts except the taste and feel of him alone.


	35. Chapter 35: Fight or Flight

_"_ _Daniel, I can't find Thea. Where's Thea?!"_

 _"_ _Zara, take Halen and run. My boat is still on the beach. I'll meet you there with Thea! Go, now!"_

Please no.

" _Mama, don't let them take me!"_

Stop. She didn't want to see anymore.

" _Fight, Halen. You must fight."_

Hal smelled blood, saw Celia's wide, unseeing eyes, and yanked herself out of her nightmares, the makings of a scream dying on her lips. The memory of burned flesh filled her nostrils and she gagged, her stomach churning. She stumbled from her cot, nearly tripping over her sheets, covered in sweat. She had half a mind to call out like she did when she was small, comforted by the hurried footsteps of someone rushing to her side after a nightmare, telling her that everything would be okay. But she choked, embarrassed that she would even consider such a weakness.

Her heart was racing at an alarmingly high rate, unable to shake the feeling that the Tenari were in danger. She had failed to protect her home, and brought the Ra'zac to Berjis' village. Would hers be next? She felt tears prick her eyes, and, at the last second, decided to grab the dagger under her pillow despite the shake in her hands. Just in case. Rationale told her everything was fine, but she needed to see. Needed to be sure.

She quietly opened the door to Denu's room and peeked inside. He was sleeping on his back, snoring gently. Hal checked the corners, making sure they were empty before she closed the door. She tightened her grip on the dagger in her hand, prepared just in case there were any surprise attacks as she checked on Murtagh as well.

Asleep, safe and sound.

Yet it didn't feel like enough. She felt mad, but she walked outside, observing the silence for herself. There were no Ra'zac. Still she patrolled the entirety of the village, her bare feet and nightgown dusty from the dirt. The stables were quiet, the homes dark as everyone else slept, blissfully unaware of the anguish tearing at Hal's heart. Because she did not know if she could do this. If anything happened to the Tenari because of her…

But she pressed on, circling the entire perimeter until she was coated in a thin layer of sweat from the hot night. Every noise made her still with panic, straining to listen for the swish of a cloak or a hiss of tongue. And yet, it was a false alarm every time. Nighttime critters skirting across the landscape without a second glance at Hal. It was all familiar and normal.

There were no Ra'zac.

It was almost first light when Hal fell to her knees, feeling sick in her fear. Her body wouldn't stop shaking, the threat felt, in that moment, all too imminent. How could she ever sleep soundly after what had happened? Yet she kept repeating it, like a mantra, trying to regain a sense of safety and security that continued to allude her. There were no Ra'zac. They were protected by wards that would alert the elves and Murtagh if they were breached or tampered with. There were no Ra'zac. They were safe here. There were no Ra'zac.

Finally managing to at least get control of her breathing, Hal got back on her feet, her jaw tightly set. Standing in the village center, she carefully spun in place, the sun beginning to rise on another day. They had made it another night. And even though she was not so ignorant as to assume that they were any safer with the sun out, the barest hint of warmth from the rays beginning to peak through already felt like they were bringing a sense of security with them.

Hal felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up then and she spun around, dagger raised, and froze.

It was one of the spirits.

It just floated there, like it always did. Hal's grip on her weapon tightened as she pointed it at the spirit, forcing a false sense of bravado in her voice as she asked, "Who are you?"

 _Halen_.

She blinked. That voice…it couldn't be. But no, she was sure of it. It was the same voice from her dreams. The same voice she had hear inside her head when the Shade first attacked her mind.

 _It is time._

 _She is coming._

 _Fight her, Halen!_

Hal had thought perhaps she had made the voice up, or that it was the Shade toying with her. But there was no mistaking that light, gentle whisper that, despite its mysterious background, gave Hal a strange sense of comfort. Like she knew it.

Like it knew her.

Hal struggled with her instincts, but the hold this spirit had over her, as much as it terrified her, won out. She lowered her weapon. When the spirit didn't move or attack, she asked again in a much stronger voice, "Who are you? Why have you been helping me?"

 _Halen_.

There was a sudden and profound sense of grief and loss and Hal slowly got to her knees, unaware and unsure of why her eyes were filling with tears. The spirit moved closer, as if just as wary of Hal as she was of it. Hal held up her hand, wondering if the spirit was as warm as she thought it might be. Could she touch a spirit? Would it burn her? Or would her hand pass right through it?

She reached out, not just with her hand, but with her mind as well. Careful, in case it turned on her. And yet, she had the craziest notion that she was safe. Her mind prickled with familiarity, and she had this crazy idea of talking with someone she might have known. And she wondered…

 _Please. Tell me who you are._

There was a prolonged silence, and Hal swallowed, growing eager.

 _Halen._

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as her name was called again, this time aloud and from behind her. Hal twisted around, stunned to find Invidia running towards her, her brows pinched in concern. Hal remembered and turned back around, but the spirit was already gone.

Hal quickly wiped her cheeks.

"What are you doing out here?"

Feeling as though to admit that she'd had a bad dream that made her paranoid about the security of her village so she was out walking the perimeter to make sure no Ra'zac had snuck in would be ludicrous, so instead, all she said was, "I couldn't sleep."

Invidia gave her the same irritated expression everyone did when Hal used such a weak excuse, but she did not push for an actual answer like Murtagh would have. Rather, she eyed the dagger in Hal's hand and studied her red eyes and seemed to reach her own conclusion.

"Come, Halen. Let's get you some rest —"

"I need to talk with Eragon," Hal blurted, her mind racing after the interaction with the spirit. "Alone," she added quickly.

Invidia's thin, pale brows went up in surprise. She seemed unsure, as if Hal talking with him without the presence of the elves or Murtagh seemed baffling.

"I suppose I don't see why not? May I ask what this is concerning?"

Hal slowly got to her feet. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

…

"Halen, good morning," Eragon said slowly. He seemed just as confused to see just her there as Invidia had been by the request. And Murtagh when Hal ran into him on her way out of the hut after she dressed into more appropriate clothing. And Blödhgarm when Invidia informed him. And Hal was very much aware that when she said she needed privacy for this conversation, it meant that all three of them were situated just out of range, but she knew they were close enough in case anything went wrong.

"Good morning, Eragon. I apologize for the short notice. But thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

"Not at all." He scratched the top of his hair, brown, with blonde strands beginning to show through. She noticed that he seemed tan at the moment compared to the first time she had seen him and wondered if, wherever he was, they were currently experiencing summer. Hal rarely kept track of the actual seasons on Illium — sometimes she forgot they even existed. Illium was either hot or hotter.

However, the fact that he seemed rather nervous was almost endearing, a feature very similar to his brother. And she had to remind herself, that for all their feats and prowess and overall skill…they were still just young men, who had borne very heavy burdens at a young age. She forgot she was actually older than Eragon, although it was only by a year or so. But still…

She had never led an army.

Never fought in battle.

Never bore the weight of bringing about freedom to a country from the rule of a tyrant.

And the longer she looked at him, the more she began to see some of that weight in his features. His eyes were strong and kind, sharp and intelligent. But there was a worry there. Murtagh had said he was training the new generation of Dragon Riders. What must the world expect of him that he felt he needed to deliver?

And he was still so young.

"Murtagh said you could be very studious of people you meet," Eragon said suddenly with an amused smile. She blinked in confusion. "He was right. You do tilt your head when you're watching others."

She was rather embarrassed that Murtagh was pointing out her quirks to people she didn't really know, and yet Eragon seemed so fascinated by it that she wasn't as embarrassed as she felt she should be. "I was actually thinking it must be difficult, to be in your position. There must be a lot of pressure that comes with your role. A lot of expected leadership."

He seemed surprised that that was what she had been thinking about. "I thought you were going to say I am much younger than you thought I'd be."

"I did think that, back when we first spoke, but not because I thought your age didn't match your feats. But just that it must make it harder for you, being so young and having such expectations thrusted upon you. And, by extension, Saphira, I suppose."

His smile waned some, and Hal knew the truth of her words had struck at least a small chord with him. "It's not as bad as it would have been if I had stayed on the mainland. Part of me is grateful for that."

"Do you sometimes wish you had stayed?"

"I have moments. When I miss my family and friends especially. Or the sights of the village where I grew up or the cities. I've heard Nasuada has made marvelous progress with her changes to the capital of Illirea, after Galbatorix's rule. Apparently, it's quite beautiful now."

Hal's smile became strained, her mind trying to piece together what Eragon had just said and struggling. "Nasuada?"

"Yes, your queen. She's a good friend of mine. Or was. We haven't really spoken in a while. I haven't really spoken with anyone recently, besides Murtagh. Everyone's so busy these days, even me."

Hal heard a dull ringing in her ears, her chest growing tight. Nasuada? Murtagh's Nasuada? Could it be? And queen? Hal felt like a hand was squeezing her heart and she had to force herself to speak before she let Eragon get suspicious.

"That must be hard."

Eragon smiled. "Not that I'm trying to deflect, but you did want to talk to me for a reason, did you not? I think your situation is allowed to take priority over mine at the moment."

Hal flushed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't waste your time."

"No, please don't think that at all." She watched him carefully, noticing how, despite his strange, elvish features, the pink tinge to his cheeks were still very human. Very boyishly charming, and Hal smiled again. "It's been a while since someone asked how I was doing. And that means a lot to me. Truly."

The thought made her rather sad, but she didn't pity him. Rather, she was glad they had a chance to speak about something other than the issue at hand, which she had managed to avoid for all of five minutes.

"The reason I wanted to speak with you, was actually in regards to the dreams you had of me when I was small." He nodded. "Aside from the fact that you were having the dreams at all, was there anything strange about them. Anything that stood out to you? Did you see anything else in the dreams besides me?" Or someone else.

He fell quiet, deep in thought. "Now that you mention it —"

Her heart began to race.

"— the dream was meticulously barren of any such detail," he finished. Hal shoulders slumped. "It was almost as if I was scrying you, but had never seen you before. Murtagh has explained scrying to you, correct?"

"Aye."

"So, then you know that when you scry someone, if they're in a place you've never seen, their background comes up empty." She nodded at his words. "Well that's how my dreams were. And it was the same thing each time: there was no background, it was just you. But you were crying, like you were lost or afraid. And I felt this alarming sense of dread at the thought of anything happening to you. Not just as if you were someone I personally cared about. But like…something bad was about to happen."

Hal shivered.

"Whoever sent me this vision is obviously frightened for you. But even that is mere speculation. I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could tell you."

"No, don't be. I'm glad you acted when you did. If you hadn't…" She faltered a bit, thinking of Celia, of her dream. She clenched her hand tightly, her scars paining her yet again. She didn't know what she had hoped to accomplish with this conversation, and her lack of follow-up proved that she was ill-prepared. Dammit. She wiped her eyes again, trying to laugh and play it off so that Eragon wouldn't look so sad and concerned for her. "Goodness, I don't know why that keeps happening. You must think I'm ridiculous."

"Halen —"

"I mean you faced Galbatorix. Bloody hell, Murtagh faced Galbatorix. And you all fought in countless battles and I'm crying like an idiot over a few dead bodies and some broken bones and —"

"Halen."

His voice was firm, but Hal couldn't bear to look at him as she failed to maintain her composure. She was going to cry. She just knew she was going to cry. She'd had this fleeting hope of who she thought might have sent the dream. Of who the spirit might be. And she suddenly realized that she was pining after the dead like a fool. And she was suddenly struck by how alone she felt. And she knew then that if she did not leave now, she would split at the seams and combust. And she didn't want Eragon to see her when she did.

"Thank you for your help, Eragon; I'm so sorry to have wasted your time," she said, speaking quickly as she broke the connection and ran from the mirror.

She was unsure of why she had such high expectations for her conversation with Eragon. Not that she blamed him, of course. But she had somehow thought that she would ask the right questions. The ones no one else had thought to ask that would lead to some startling discovery. And she had left feeling more foolish than she had thought possible. Because for a split moment, she had allowed herself to believe that the spirit may have belonged to that of her mother. Or father. Or sister. Because even after all this time, she could not face the truth that they were gone.

She had never felt more alone. More childishly inadequate.

What had she really thought to accomplish, stumbling around in the dark with only a dagger to protect her village? Facing Eragon, really processing all that he had done in such a short amount of time, had felt almost shameful. The son of a dragon rider, who became one himself, denied Galbatorix, excelled in magic and swordsmanship, killed a Shade, the Ra'zac, and, ultimately, the king himself.

She didn't even know how she would face Murtagh now. She was still rather unnerved by how he had beaten her the other day, her mind still unable to process how steady and calm his hand had been while hers had been shaking with exhaustion. He had trained all his life in swordsmanship, frightfully powerful in his own right. He doubted himself, and yet she could not forget the state he had been in when he had healed Thorn when she first rescued him. As strong as he was now, she did not forget that he had made the comment that he would never be as strong as he had been under Galbatorix. She knew now, why that was the case, since he had given up his eldunarya. But the two brothers were dangerously strong, and she could not help but be in awe of what they had done, regardless of whether it was wholly good or bad.

Even Nasuada…

Hal choked on the thought. She felt petty and childish, getting jealous and angry over a woman she had never met. But _queen_?! She could not help but recall when Murtagh had said Hal reminded him of someone, and over time she had come to assume it was Nasuada, even if she didn't know her name yet. But the more she learned about the woman, the more Hal was beginning to think it was either a cruel joke or some miscalculation on Murtagh's part. Because even on a good day, as of late, Hal was struggling to muster up the energy to get out of bed. And yet Nasuada, following her torture, had decided to rule an entire kingdom when she was the same age as Hal.

By the standards set from everyone else, Hal was doomed to fail.

And the fear of that failure was like the Ra'zac breaking her hand all over again. Twisting the bones, hearing them snap and feeling the pain so thoroughly and completely that it brought her out of her body and snapped her back in at the same time. There was no escaping it. But this time, the pressure came from her heart. Like the Ra'zac's hand, or perhaps the Shade's, was squeezing it. Just like in her dream, when she had to choose between the heart attack or being crushed by the waves, and ultimately her inability to act and prevent either one meant she would die either way.

She should've just died with her family. The way she was supposed to. Why did she have to make it off that godforsaken island on her own? None of this would've happened if she hadn't. Or maybe if she had never followed after her mother and the soldier. Would it have been better for her mother to live with her trauma or was it better that she had died instead?

Why?

Why her?

The pressure in her chest was becoming unbearable. She clutched it tightly, gasping as she struggled to breath, weeping with a selfish pity as she walked. And walked. And walked. Everything hurt. It felt like the Shade was ripping her apart from the inside out, and Hal let out a sob in the hopes of relieving some of the pressure.

But all it did was break her heart.

Murtagh was wrong about her. Invidia, Blödhgarm, Berjis, everyone was wrong. She wasn't strong enough.

Not for this.

…

"What do you mean Hal's missing?" Amon said with a frown.

"I mean," Murtagh hissed, "she took off this morning and now I can't find her. I think she's using certain means to keep me from tracking her. Thorn hasn't even been able to sniff her out."

Amon's features looked heartbroken, but not concerned like Murtagh expected. "Aye."

Now it was Murtagh's turn to frown. "'Aye?'"

Amon leaned against the doorframe to his hut, taking up the entire space with his broad shoulders. "She had a nasty habit of running away when she was young. When things got really bad."

Murtagh swallowed, the words a crushing blow. "How bad?"

"It's hard to say, honestly. Some days, leading up to when she would run away, she was miserable. Numb. Cold. Didn't eat. Didn't sleep. And then she would just walk off in the middle of the night, as if she hoped she'd just wither away and be done with it all. Other times, she would be as happy as a newborn, laughing and giggling and playing. And then she'd be gone. Days at a time. She was too good, knew how to hide her tracks from us. Sometimes we found her. Most times, she came home on her own."

"Where did she go?"

"Far as I know, she just wandered. As if she were looking for something. Or, in my opinion, someone."

Murtagh felt frustrated and helpless. By the time he or the elves had realized it had been too long of a conversation, Hal had disappeared. Now, hours had passed, and it would be getting dark soon. He wanted her home.

"She's never truly healed from what she endured as a child," Amon said suddenly, and Murtagh glanced over at him. "That I know for sure. She never talked about it with anyone. I think she suppressed all of it. I can't imagine she's felt a semblance of sane peace after what she saw happen to the Xano village."

No. No, she probably had not. And Murtagh hated himself for not having thought of that. Especially after the way Hal had reacted to Celia's death. The death of someone's mother. The death of someone Hal had cared about. He had been so caught up in this…lightness in his chest at their kiss. He'd wanted it for so long, he had foolishly and briefly had this notion that everything would be fine again. But that was not their reality. That was not Hal's reality. And he felt selfish for assuming the kiss would change her perspective in the wake of such tragedy.

"That was probably our biggest mistake," Amon continued sorrowfully. "When she finally began to smile and laugh, when she began to integrate herself into village life, we were all so happy that we thought continuing to press her about certain matters would undo all of that. And she had fought so hard for that happiness, rider. And that's all we wanted, was for her to be as happy as she could possibly be."

Murtagh understood what he was trying to say, but he still shook his head. "Hal and I are close friends" — an understatement, he knew, "—but she still does not talk to me about such things. I know bits and pieces of her childhood —"

"Then you got bits and pieces more than we ever did." Amon crossed his arms over her chest, his expression challenging. "What were her parents' names?"

"Daniel and Zara."

Amon blinked in surprise, as if he hadn't actually expected Murtagh to answer so quickly and so confidently. Then he blinked back tears as he processed the information and covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sudden emotion. In a broken voice he whispered, "Halen Zarasdaughter." He nodded, smiling. "It's a good name. Strong. Just like I suspected."

Murtagh stared.

And realized.

"All this time, and you never knew her full name." It wasn't a question.

Amon didn't respond. "Did she have any siblings?"

Murtagh felt his chest grow tight. "A little sister. Thea."

Amon nodded again, sniffing. "That would explain why she never seemed to mind it when Layla tagged along." That made Murtagh's chest ache. "I always thought she didn't want to talk about her past. Part of me feared her family may not have been kind to her, and perhaps that was why. But I see now, and I think you do too, that perhaps I nor Denu were the right people to push."

"I accidentally pushed her once before and she snapped at me. I'd never seen her so angry."

"And what happened after that?"

Murtagh's shoulders fell as he realized what Amon already had. "She told me about her mother."

Amon nodded. "It's not meant to be nice or easy, pushing those we love out of their place of comfort. And it takes a strong will to do so. She may resent you in the moment. She may say things that hurt your feelings. But at the end of it all, it's not about you. It's about her. And what she needs and what you can provide for her. I think Hal has kept quiet about her past long enough, Murtagh. Now go find her, and tell her so."

"But what if it doesn't work and she hates me for it?"

Amon's smile was kind. "I've seen the way she looks at you. It would take an act of the gods for that woman to hate you."

…

Her father always considered himself a man of the sea. Whenever he brought Hal and Thea to the beach, he would always plant their feet in the sand and point out the horizon. _That's where I'm headed. The ultimate act of creation by the gods._

And every time she came to the ocean, that was the first place Hal looked. She liked to imagine her father out there somewhere, marveling at what wonders existed at the place where the ocean and the sky met. She had always hoped to see it with him someday. But now, she wasn't sure she'd even get to see it herself.

She stood with her feet firmly planted. Somewhere, just out of her line of sight, also sat Uden. Her home. So close, and yet it felt like they were worlds apart. The wind was quiet today, easing into a cool, nighttime breeze. It was dangerous, she knew, stepping outside the confines of the wards when there could very well be Ra'zac on her at any moment. But she felt less stressed about it as long as she was alone. Part of her could not help but wonder what would happen if she built a boat and sailed away on her own right now. While she was sure the others were looking for her, she had been careful about using her magic to cloak her whereabouts like she had been taught. Maybe they would never suspect she had even left the island, giving her a head start.

She felt like a coward, considering running away. But more and more the idea seemed tempting, if only for the notion that the Ra'zac, and perhaps even the Shade, would track her down and it would pull their attention away from the villages. If she was on her own, would it really be so bad if they caught her? Eragon seemed to think so — but what if she ceased to exist altogether?

Would everyone be safe from her then?

She felt like her training was getting her nowhere. She couldn't best Murtagh in battle, and she was still a novice at magic. What hope did she have of killing a Shade if it came down to it?

Hal had never before felt such despair at her own helplessness. When her village had perished, it had all happened so fast that it would take months for the events to actually process in her mind. But this? This drawn out game of cat and mouse where she was the mouse was frightening and cruel. And it was putting the lives of people she cared about at risk. And she could not — could not — let any harm come to her village.

Any means necessary.

Right?

Hal stared up at the sky, the stars breathtaking and mesmerizing and dazzling and bright in all of their splendor and glory. Too many to count, populating the ink black sky by the thousands. She closed her eyes, a ritual of hers when she came to this spot. When she needed to get out on her own for a bit. And like always, she wondered if she could touch the stars. She had never thought to ask Blödhgarm during any of her teachings. They had always reached out to the life around them, the trees, the animals, the very island itself. But what about the sky above? If she tried, could Hal reach the stars? And if she did, would she find her family? Would she find Celia? Would they forgive her for what she had done to them?

She breathed slowly.

She could feel the wind shifting around her and listened to it, imagined it lifting her off the ground and towards the heavens. A sound in the distance caught her attention, the sound of something beating against that of the wind. Wings.

She sighed.

She figured it was only a matter of time before they found her, but she'd thought she'd at least have another day or two. She wondered what had ultimately given her away.

There was no point in running or hiding, so she removed her wards and waited for Thorn to pick up her scent. But she looked up at the stars one last time, and imagined that they were looking right back. Waiting with open arms, for her to join them.

By the time Thorn landed, Hal felt moderately composed, even if it was largely a pretense. She knew Murtagh would be worried, so she would let him know she had a lapse in judgement and needed space. It was perfectly reasonable, all things considering.

But Murtagh didn't rush to her quite like she imagined he would have under normal conditions. Rather, Thorn walked closer to her before turning to face the ocean and crouching down. She looked up at Murtagh, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak. All he did was hold out his hand.

He meant for her to climb up. And Hal had multiple reasons as to why she did not want to, and all of them consisted of the fact that her feet would have to leave the ground. She knew Murtagh knew this, and yet he held out his hand anyway, his face still neutral, still not speaking.

She wanted to ask him why. Why he had chosen to come. Why he had chosen to stay. Why he thought she could do this. Why he had taken any interest in her at all. Why he even bothered. Why he even cared.

She stared at him, wondering what he saw in her that he felt made her even worth his time. He could've had a leader. A queen. And instead he got a coward.

Ashamed of her own feelings, Hal lowered her head, taking a step back in preparation to refuse him. To tell him to go home. But something pressed against her back, stopping her with a surprising amount of force even though it didn't feel all that heavy. She turned and saw that it was Thorn's tail.

She looked over at the dragon, who's red eyes held the same resolution as his rider's. And she hated the fear that she was sure reflected in her own.

Why?

Why her?

Still unable to look Murtagh in the eye, she threw her hand up and took his before she could doubt herself further. His grip was strong, and he pulled her up with ease, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her keep her balance as she swung one leg over to Thorn's other side. Already she felt like she was immensely high up, and she could feel her heart race with nerves.

Murtagh pulled her into his chest and she flushed at the contact as he took her hand and had her grip the pommel of Thorn's saddle. But all she could focus on was how warm his body was. She could feel the heat through her thin top, his chin practically resting on her shoulder. She tilted her head away from him, hating herself. If he noticed her slight, he didn't say or do anything.

Thorn rose to his feet and Hal felt like she was going to be sick. As he spread his wings, she squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach rolling horrifically as he took flight.

She had made a terrible mistake.

The wind rushing past them was unlike anything she had ever felt. Not even riding Nani could she reach such speeds. She gripped the pommel tightly, grateful that Murtagh had at least thought to put her up front. His presence behind her was most welcoming as Thorn climbed higher at a slight incline. She couldn't imagine having nothing at her back right now. She'd fear falling off.

She silently thanked the gods she hadn't been made a dragon rider. She would certainly be a shameful one.

Her hands were shaking horribly, and she wasn't sure if it was fear or the slight temperature drop. She hadn't expected it to be cold higher in the sky. Yet she could feel goosebumps on her arm all the same. And she felt even more uncomfortable in the saddle, her body wound so tightly she felt like stone.

Thorn soon evened out, his wings hardly moving as he rode with the wind instead of against it. Her fear and her curiosity were battling it out, trading blows until her curiosity won. But she hesitated, and that's when Murtagh wrapped one arm around her shoulders, keeping the other around her waist. How he was so comfortable solely holding on to her she would never understand. It was not in his best interest in the slightest.

"Open your eyes," he whispered in her ear, which then gave her a completely different kind of chill. "Neither Thorn nor I will let you fall." She had an inkling that he very much meant the double meaning of the encouragement, but decided not to ask.

She told herself on the count of five.

She opened them on two.

She inhaled.

"Oh my."

It was like a completely different world. They were flying just above the clouds, although they were thin and scattered, so she could see part of the ocean below. But it was like they were flying right into the moon. It was so close. She wanted to reach out her hand and take it. Hold it. But she knew she couldn't.

Thorn began to turn, gradually, and Hal still yelped in surprise, reaching for Murtagh's hand without thinking, the one around her waist. But she kept her eyes open. His fingers intertwined themselves with hers, clutching her tightly to assure and remind her that she was safe.

They flew around the island, a feat that would have taken Hal several days, even on Nani. As she observed the quiet and peaceful land, she felt an ache in her chest. And a love so strong that she thought she might collapse from it. She had always known her island was beautiful. Yet to see it from here…she didn't think there was anything new to love about it that she did not already know. And now, here she was, observing it from heights that, without Thorn, she never would have even been able to imagine.

Hal began to laugh. Then cry. And laughed again. She moved to cover her eyes with her hand, but Murtagh was quick to take it. She turned in surprise as he kissed her knuckles gently. He grinned. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Her eyes widened at his implication. "Don't you da —!"

Her threat was lost as she screamed in surprise. Thorn had nosedived so suddenly that Hal had felt her stomach hit her throat. Just when she thought they were about to hit the water with an obscene amount of force, Thorn pulled up with ease so that they were gliding just along the top of the water. Hal dissolved into a fit of giggles and childlike laughter, unsure of why the thrill and rush of it had been so delightful.

Thorn held back less and less, performing twist and flips, even flying upside down, the blood rushing to Hal's head before he righted himself once more. When they flew closer to the island, Hal could see the eyes of animals in their nests, looking up at them curiously. She saw a pack of lovuk, many of them little ones, sleeping soundly in a cave. One of the pups saw them and gave an excited yip. Hal cupped her hands over her mouth to magnify her voice, mimicking the little one's sound and laughing in delight when it wagged its tail, jumping in response.

Hal captured as many moments as she could, her eyes welling with tears once more as Thorn began his final descent. She bowed her head as Murtagh wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," she said, crying quietly. "Both of you. I will never forget this. Never."

Thorn returned to the same spot he had taken off, and Hal wiped her eyes and cheeks as Murtagh jumped down. He turned to help her off, and Hal had never been so upset to be on dry land once again. Her legs actually felt a little uneven, like she was a fowl taking its first steps. Murtagh wiped her face with his hand, his forehead pressed to hers, holding her steady.

"I'm never letting you talk to Eragon again."

Still high from riding Thorn, Hal snorted before smiling, unable to hide her amusement as Murtagh grinned. When she had quieted down a bit, she asked, "How did you find me?"

"I didn't. Not exactly, anyway. Denu said you might be here."

Ah.

"He says…this is where he first found you."

Hal nodded, glancing to the spot where she had been standing. "Right over there, actually. I was so out of it that I thought he was nothing more than a figment of my imagination."

Murtagh was holding on to her tightly, standing so close that Hal felt her senses getting overwhelmed by him. But she also knew that look in his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"If you're truly sorry then _talk_ to me, Halen. I have been patient. I've tried to give you space. If you didn't want to talk, I didn't want to make you. But I can't do this. I can't watch you unravel and sink inside yourself and do nothing."

"I'm not ready to talk —"

"Halen what you are going through is something no person would be 'ready' to talk about —"

"You do!" Hal snapped. Murtagh stared at her, dumbfounded, as she removed his hands from her face, stepping away from him to properly clear her mind. Her heart was racing like mad. What was he trying to accomplish exactly? "Even before we were truly close like we are now, you talked about what happened to you? Your torture, your nightmares, your parents, Galbatorix, even Nasuada in minor detail. You tell me everything. I'm just not strong enough —"

"It had nothing to do with strength," he sharply retorts. "Not speaking on it has nothing to do with weakness."

"How can you say that though?" she asked, her tears falling faster. "Look at what you've done! Galbatorix would only need look at me and I would have told him whatever it was he needed to know. You said it yourself the only reason you joined him was because Thorn hatched for you and Galbatorix saw fit to use him against you."

"Halen —"

"Me?" Hal continued, feeling her anger begin to seep through. "You know before you got here, I was thinking about running away. I was thinking about building a boat and leaving. People _died_ Murtagh. Innocent people are dead b-b-because of m-me. And I will not let another village perish because of my mistake!"

The truth was like a knife, twisting in her side.

"What did you think was going to happen?" she spat at him. "You would just take me on that romantic flight and then I'd spill all my secrets?"

"You need to talk to someone, Halen."

"I really don't. And right now, I especially don't want to talk to you."

She turned on her heel and stalked away, wishing she would be allowed to wallow in her misery alone. But she'd only walked a few feet when something told her to stop and turn around.

"Are you kidding me, rider?"

His expression was unreadable. Hal turned and continued walking, glancing over her shoulder. He was, very much indeed, following right behind her. She reached for her magic when he called out.

"There's no point, Hal. I placed wards on you when we were flying."

Hal froze, stunned. Then she snapped.

"Are you. Out. Of. Your. Mind?" With each world, she hurled handfuls of sand at him, which he stepped back to avoid. "Take them down!" she commanded.

"No."

She found a rock the size of her hand. "I said take them down!"

She hurled it at his head, but his mouth was already moving. The rock disintegrated into crumbled bits of sand and minerals before it ever had a chance to reach him. Hal screamed and fury and ran to him, shoving him back hard enough that he stumbled several paces. But his expression didn't change, and he didn't even put up his hands to block her when she shoved him again.

"I should've just let you leave when you wanted to," Hal snapped, her fury feeding her mouth lie after lie. "Or you should've just stayed up north." His lack of a reaction pissed her off further. "You arrogant, _ass_!"

She walked away again, and he followed right behind her, Thorn keeping his distance but keeping them within eyesight all the same.

"STOP FOLLOWING ME!"

As far as Hal knew, she hadn't reached for her magic at all. She hadn't even felt it. But just like with that soldier, it was suddenly there. Murtagh went flying as if he'd been hit by a ball of air, landing on his back several feet away, dazed and confused.

Hal stared, actually glancing behind her as if another magic user had appeared out of nowhere and attacked him. But she felt the wind settle around her as if it had been an attack dog, returning to its master's side after doing its job.

She shook her head, backing away from in disbelief as Murtagh sat up, stunned but unhurt. But that did nothing to dissuade the sickness in her stomach. She had attacked him. Even unintentionally, she had attacked him. Just like she had attacked the soldier. Heavens, she could've killed him just now. And the fear, the shame, overwhelmed her until she knew nothing but.

"Hal, don't—!"

She turned and ran.


	36. Chapter 36: The Lamentations of Hal

Hal thought she might lose him in the woods somewhere. She hoped to. But she was such a wreck that she had none of her speed or agility, stumbling through the forest like she had never seen it before. Granted, it was dark, she was crying, and she was now afraid of herself more than ever.

It didn't take Murtagh long to catch up, not that she had really gone far. She could still hear the ocean waves and smell the saltwater. But by the time she heard him crash through the brush, she had already collapsed. Already given up. His breathing was still rather smooth, probably the uptick was more from her surprise and accidental attack rather than running.

She should've known better than to think he'd let her get away so easily.

"You must wonder why you even bother," she said, her voice harsh and hollow, "dealing with such a pathetic hypocrite."

The air was thick, Murtagh's breathing having grown more strained.

"Do not give it power over you, Halen. Your fear is nothing to be ashamed of. It does not make you weak. But too much of it — I know. I _know_ how frightening fear is when you can't control it. And you're like me, Hal: you need control, especially after it has been stripped from you." She let out a sob, the truth hitting her hard. "Give it life, Halen. Speak life into what keeps you up at night. Make it real. As real as you, or me, or Thorn. And then kill it."

She gasped, taking a shuddering breath. "I _can't_. I am not strong enough."

"Yes, you are, and yes you can. I will be right here, Hal. I will not leave your side. Just let it all go."

She cried even harder, the words fighting to make their way up her throat. She felt like she was going the throw them up all over the ground. She moaned at the agony of it all. _Please_ , she wanted to beg of him. _Don't make me do this._

She rocked back and forth, sobbing hysterically, running her fingers through her hair, digging her nails into her scalp. She felt like she was having a fit, just as Murtagh had on the beach.

And then she saw it.

It was the spirit again. She stared at it, somehow feeling as though it was only showing itself to her. It was brief, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Yet her sobs eased some, although her body still shook with the strain of it all. And an unsettling calm claimed her, the words finding her.

And finally, for the first time in twelve years, Hal began to tell her story.

…

The first few words were the hardest, getting stuck in her throat like rocks. But surprisingly, after a few sentences had pried themselves loose, the rest flowed a bit more smoothly. The words tasted like acid on her tongue all the same, but she continued to talk. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, trying to get certain parts over with as quickly as possible. Sometimes she was so overwhelmed with emotion she had to stop and cry, just let it out before she could press forward. But she talked, and Murtagh listened, and she hardly paused for breath until she was done...

 _After I killed the soldier, after I blacked out, I'm not quite sure how much time passed or what all happened. I think it had only been a few hours, though. When I woke up, I was in my bed, back home. The first face I saw was my mother's, and she looked scared. For me. Of me. But she was there, along with my aunt. My aunt was taking care of both of us. I suspected my mother had told her what happened, all of it. She kept urging my mother to rest, to not walk so much. I once saw my mother take no more than five steps to reach for something on the dresser, and she limped the entire time. But whenever she caught me staring, she would smile so sweetly that even I was convinced everything would be okay._

 _Sometimes, I hate that I killed him._

 _Sometimes, I wish I had at least killed him slowly._

 _My sister came to keep me company. We just told her I was ill. My father was on a fishing trip with several other men, and wasn't due back until the next day. But then, the following morning, I heard my aunt tell my mother that they had found the body. I still wasn't feeling quite well, so my aunt told my mother to hide me. That we should go into the forest and wait it out. But we were too late._

 _They came straight for me while my mother was trying to grab supplies. They broke down the door of our hut. They hit my aunt and my mother, and then they grabbed me. I was so scared. I thought they meant to kill me right then and there. I fought and I screamed, begging my mother to not let them take me. My sister, as tiny a thing as she was, kept trying to pull them off and I was so afraid they'd hurt her too because she was so small. I didn't know what to do._

 _The man in charge, I didn't learn his name. All I remember was that he had cruel eyes. He told me that if I was, indeed, a magic user, he would spare the life of me and my family so that I may serve Galbatorix. He said the king had no desire to spill the blood of a magical user so long as they cooperated and swore fealty to him. I didn't know what to say, I was too scared to respond. So, I didn't. But he said I still must face punishment for my crimes. That he would make an example out of me. He never asked me if I killed the man. I never confessed to it. But I suppose he knew all he needed to know._

 _They tied me to a post. The commotion from my mother and aunt brought about practically the entire village. And I could see in everyone's face how scared they were of the soldiers. Because no one but my mother and aunt tried to help me, but their efforts proved futile._

 _I think I threw up before the whip even touched me. He had cracked it once, just for show, and I — even then I was so humiliated by my reaction that I wished I was dead instead. And the pain…I don't really remember blacking out. All I know was that the whipping had suddenly stopped, and there were screams. And I heard my father shouting, fighting with the soldier who was whipping me. I hadn't even seen him return, but he and the other men had heard what was happening. Some fought the guards, allowing my mother to cut me from the post just as my father killed the soldier._

 _The man in charge declared us all traitors. He said our actions meant we weren't even fit for a life of slavery. To deny the king is an immediate guilty charge. And our punishment was certain death._

 _Some of the villagers tried to fight back. But it all happened so…fast. It was like the soldiers had been waiting for this moment. They got atop their horses while some of the villagers went and armed themselves. But we never stood a chance. It was an instant slaughter._

 _My mother, father and I managed to break away from the initial attack. They were cutting down anyone who got too close to their weapons. But we lost Thea and my aunt in the crowd. My mother didn't want to leave without my sister but my father insisted she couldn't stay so long as she had me. We searched the hut, just in case, but they hadn't returned home._

 _Some of the villagers tried to barricade themselves in their huts. Hoped they could wait it out. But our homes were made of wood. So they got torched. Burned alive in their homes. To this day I can still smell the burning flesh. But I think the screams were worse. When people realized what was happening. And if you dared run out of your home, you were cut down immediately. Some tried to flee into the woods, but they were simply chased down by the horses._

 _My father snuck me and my mother out by the stables. It was the furthest point from where the soldiers had begun their attack, so a few people were attempting to escape the same way. He made my mother and me ride out to his fishing boat on the beach. Said he would meet us there. Promised he would find Thea and meet us there. But I never saw him again. I'd like to think he made it out. That he and Thea found each other and…but no one ever came for me. I waited right on the beach where you found me and no one ever came for me. So I don't know. So many people were dying, and the soldiers were hunting down everyone. So I don't know._

 _My mother rode hard and fast, but two soldiers spotted us. Our horse was faster, much more accustomed to the terrain, so we had a bit of an advantage. When we reached the beach, my mother put me in the boat and began pushing it out to sea. I kept telling her to get in, but she kept pushing. The soldiers found us, and they had bows and arrows. One narrowly missed me, but they hit my mother in the back. But she kept pushing. And they kept firing. I watched her take five arrows, and there was nothing I could do to stop any of them. I just let her die. There was no magic to save her now. It had gone as quickly as it had appeared. And at what cost?_

 _I just knew the soldiers would come for me. Or any villagers who had survived. But no one ever did. I thought I would die in the boat, no food or water. And the water was so still and my back wasn't healed, so I couldn't move to even put my hand in the water and row myself to land. I just drifted there in the middle of the ocean. But there was a storm that wound up crashing my boat on Illium._

 _I never understood why my magic revealed itself in that moment. But the entire time my people were being trampled and gutted? Nothing. When I was being whipped? Nothing. All those people. Dead. Entire generations of families. Gone. My mother who died for me. My father, who killed for me. My six-year-old sister even tried to protect me. All of them, gone. Massacred in a single night because…my hand twitched._

 _I made a mistake. And I'm the only one who did not suffer for it. I'm the only one left to remember. Or perhaps, this isolation is simply my punishment. But I am all that remains of the Sani Village and of my people._

She exhaled.

…

It was so quiet. Not even the wind seemed eager to move.

"Murtagh?"

Silence. Then. "I'm still here."

The words made her choke. She stared up at the sky, realizing it was growing light. "How did Galbatorix die?"

She could hear him struggling to speak, to hide the fact that he was crying for her and her people, and she waited patiently for him to gather himself.

He cleared his throat. "A lot…uh…happened, all at once. But, because my name had changed, I was able to strip him of most of his wards. He was still strong though and, at first, we thought we had lost. But Eragon and the Eldunarya cast some kind of Empathy Spell. Every drop of fear and pain and hurt and rage he had ever caused, he felt. He felt it all. And it became too much for him, to bear witness to the suffering he had caused. He killed himself to stop the effects."

She inhaled, afraid of what would happen if she let her emotions get the best of her. "Did he hurt? In the end, did he hurt?"

"Of that, I have no doubt."

She waited to fill something. Anything. But there was no satisfaction to be found. No joy. No relief. His death did not lesson her pain or her heartache. In fact, his death meant nothing to her.

Her family was still dead.

And she opened her mouth and wailed for all that she had lost.

…

"You don't have to stay, you know," Hal mumbled, poking at the wood in the fire, a wholly unnecessary action since Murtagh had used magic to light it. She had blown on it, poked it, and sprinkled it with water. It hardly moved. But the heat it radiated was enormously pleasant.

Murtagh looked at her. "I know."

She sighed. "So then why are you still here?"

"I will return when you do," he said matter-of-factly.

She watched him carefully, but his expression remained even and unbothered. She shrugged. He could do as he wished.

They had made camp at the bank of the river, still not far from the beach. Hal had refused to return home, her mood still raw and vulnerable after what she had told Murtagh. But rather than go without her, he had stayed. It had been almost another three days, but no matter what she tried, Murtagh just shrugged her off.

 _I'm fine, honest._

 _Someone should let Denu know I'm okay._

 _People will think we've been dishonorable._

 _People will think we're dead._

But all he would say was, "Then tell them you're fine yourself." Then he would go back to whatever it was he was doing. Which wasn't much, since neither of them had planned to be gone so long. What few provisions they did have were ones Murtagh had thought to bring. Hal didn't even have her sketchbook. Or a book. If she wandered the woods to occupy her mind, Murtagh trailed behind at a distance that gave her privacy, but kept her within sight. Otherwise, she poked and messed with his fire, her mind empty and void of all thought. She didn't want to think. She just needed to be.

Murtagh took it all in stride. He followed her, regardless of how far she walked. And if she stayed near the camp, he practiced his swordsmanship or magic. Sometimes she ignored him. Sometimes her eyes followed his every move, like a predator tracking a prey. But whenever he glanced at her, she would deftly look away.

They hardly spoke. He would ask if she were hungry. She would say no. She would tell him to go home. A swift no. And then they would stew in silence for hours on end until they fell asleep. It wasn't the most hospitable atmosphere, but it wasn't hostile either. It simply was. And as they were both used to long periods of silence and contemplation, neither one felt any inclination to talk.

But on the third night, Hal, after returning from relieving herself, walked up to him and said, "I plan on going back tomorrow."

He didn't express much emotion. He just nodded. "All right then."

She gave a swift nod of her own, although for what purpose, she didn't know. As she turned away from him, however, he suddenly reached out and grabbed her hand. She meant to yank it back, her skin already beginning to grow hot from where he touched her. Wanting. And she had no desire for her mind to be muddled along with everything else consuming her. But before she could, he turned her hand over, revealing her palm. He pressed his lips to it, quickly, as if he knew she would protest anything further. Then he curled her fingers inward, as if the very nature of it would somehow preserve the kiss in her hand. His smile was gentle and kind. More than she deserved.

More than she could bear.

He released her just as she moved to snatch it back, shaken by such a minor interaction that she stumbled away from him. "I'm going to wash off in the river before dinner," she said, forgetting she had no towel, soap, or change of clothes.

She was rather surprised he didn't follow, and somewhat relieved as well. And annoyed. But also grateful. They had kept their distance from each other the last few days. And while her heart ached, it kept her clear-headed. Overall, she was still smarting from her memories. Still raw from her own fear of failure. Her own, selfish desire to be more than what she was.

She was not prepared to face him just yet.

She paced the river's edge impatiently, more anxious to return to the campsite than she would have thought. But her hunger eventually won out, and after a while she did return. There was a bowl of stew waiting on the opposite side of the fire and Hal quietly went to it. There was a noticeable absence as she sat down.

"Where's Thorn?"

"He returned to the village. To let Denu know that you are okay, that we are not having sex, and that we are not dead."

Her glare cut through the fire but Murtagh smiled. "He also went to find his own meal."

She stared at her dinner.

"Your food will go cold," Murtagh offered, his voice less teasing. She could hear his concern, but Hal ignored it.

"Why did you leave her?" she blurted. He looked up at her in surprise, his eyes wide at the question. Hal clutched the bowl tightly in her hands, feeling the heat in her fingers.

Realizing she was adamant about hearing a response, he leaned back. "I've already told you. It would not have worked."

"But you said you loved her. Was all truly so hopeless?"

His shoulders became heavy with her line of questioning. He looked like he had little desire to discuss Nasuada, but Hal could not help but feel a strange wonderment as to the kind of woman who had so captured his heart.

"What was she like?" Hal asked, hoping perhaps it was an easier question for him to answer.

He sighed, as though realizing Hal had no intention of dropping the subject. "She was…strong. Of both mind and body. And she was compassionate, even to me. As both friend and foe of the Varden. I was quickly taken by her — partially and probably because of this — although I did not realize how strong my affections had become until I had to take her to be tortured by Galbatorix. Even then, she did not yield to him as many had done before her. And I would do my best to minimize her suffering, and visited her as often as I could without arousing suspicion. It was during that time that I told her how I felt although, I presumed she already knew.

"She could not forgive me, for what I had done. Even though she understood that it was not my choice. Maybe…maybe in time, she would have changed her mind. Maybe not. But our paths were not meant to cross in that way. She was meant to bring about a new age for Alagaësia. And perhaps she would have someday wanted me by her side. But she could not have both me and the crown. Alagaësia needed her, much more than I. And in that new world, there was no place for me and Thorn. No place for me by her side."

"And you have accepted that?" Hal inquired, trying to understand.

His gaze became more assured. Hal reeled back in surprise. "I have."

"You have?"

"You think I mean to deceive you?"

"I think — I don't know what to think," she admitted. She stared at her bowl, still warm. And she was still hungry. And yet the thought of eating when her stomach was in such knots…

Murtagh was suddenly kneeling before her, carefully removing the bowl from her hands and setting it to the side. He took her hands in his, his eyes boring into hers. Full of more certainty than Hal was currently feeling at the moment.

"You think I regret my choice," he continued, his voice full of sorrow when he realized the truth. "Or that I someday will."

"How could you not?" Tears filled her eyes, doubt and jealousy feeding a monster she had never had to deal with before. "If you loved her, why did you not stay? If she was so wonderful, why did you not fight for her?"

"Halen —"

"How could you possibly compare someone like me to someone like her? How could you possibly want me after loving someone like her?"

She could barely see past her tears, and Murtagh leaned forward to cup her face, smoothing down her hair and attempting to wipe her tears as they fell. He murmured her name repeatedly, trying to comfort her. She wiped her nose, sniffing and attempting to get a hold of herself.

"I'm fine, I'm _fine_ ," she snapped. "Just please…answer the question."

She could not fathom why she desperately needed a response from him. But she held her ground all the same. Murtagh gripped her tightly, but he soon released her, pulling his hands back down to his lap. Hal wringed her hands anxiously.

"Those words," he said slowly, "were spoken when I did not know you as I do now. It was foolish to compare the two of you. And unfair."

Hal nodded. She had suspected as much. It took a weight off her, although she did not feel any better for it.

"Nasuada was meant to lead Alagaësia," he went on. "That was what she wanted. She no more chose me than I chose her."

"And it's as simple as that?"

"Why does it have to be difficult?" Hal didn't answer. Murtagh huffed, and Hal could tell he was becoming frustrated. She felt petty and childish and was about to tell him to forget she said anything when he spoke again. "She didn't choose me," he repeated. He spoke carefully, each word articulated slowly as if he were processing them as he was saying them. "And I didn't choose her. Therefore, there was nothing to fight for. No relationship. Nothing. My affections for her, in the end, were just that. You cannot build a life together with someone based on affection and love alone. If I had stayed, it would have been on the hope that one day she would come to see me as someone she could lay beside. Someone she could marry. But the trust — the time it would have taken to rebuild that trust may have never come to pass. And despite my love, I could not risk my freedom, or Thorn's, on hope. I would not. Leaving was the best option for both of us, in the end.

"And no, I do not have any regrets. Maybe, a few years ago, I would have spoken differently. Maybe even a few months ago." He took her face in his hands once more, and Hal was stunned to hear the emotion in his voice, to see it in his eyes. She had made him cry again. "But Halen. _My_ Halen. You have brought me so much joy, and peace, and laughter when I thought there was none left in the world for a man such as me. And on that beach, when you told me that you would be there for me, when you said it again in the Ancient Language, you gave me the one thing Nasuada never could: you _chose me_ , Halen."

He had practically pulled her into his body, nesting her between his legs. Hal didn't even recall moving. She could not tear her eyes away from his. He brushed his nose against hers, his lips brushing the skin of her cheeks and jaw. And she immediately forgot that she had been keeping her distance from him. How quickly and easily she had become undone by him.

"And you were the reason I stayed on Illium," he continued, his voice wrapping around her like silk. "I was being a stubborn ass about it, but — my heart couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you any longer than necessary."

"I told you _not_ to stay because of me!"

He laughed shaking his head. "I stayed _for_ you, Halen. Not because. I chose you. I wanted you. I needed you in my life. I wanted to laugh with you, and argue with you, and watch you continue to grow as a fighter, and watch you read, and study magic, and talk with Thorn and our friends. I wanted to see your smiles and the irritated look you give me when I get on your nerves —"

She glared at him.

"That's the one." He kissed her forehead. "Do not compare yourself to Nasuada," he added in a low voice, pulling her in close so that his lips brushed against hers. She shivered in delight, feeling the warmth pool in her belly in anticipation. "Regardless of what accomplishments you perceive as important, you will always be the woman who dove into the ocean to save my life. The woman who spent hours practicing magic and swordsmanship so that she may protect her people. And the woman who led a group of Ra'zac out of a village so that no further harm would come to it. From where I am standing, you have just as much heart and courage as any queen or dragon rider. And it is _because_ you are neither that I am choosing you. And I will always choose you, Halen."

Hal's resolve crumbled. Crying, she leaned forward and kissed him with a hunger that felt almost too big for body. Every touch and every kiss she had denied herself had come to claim some part of him. Her tears fell onto his cheeks as she used her position of sitting in his lap to carefully push him backwards until he was pressed against the grass. His body was hard under hers as she straddled his hips, never once breaking their kiss.

Her body was hot, bursting at the seams and ready to become undone. Everything felt precarious. One move and she would snap. Murtagh deftly rolled her over, pushing his knee between her legs as her name fell from his lips between breathtaking kisses. He held one arm under her head to cushion it, pressing their bodies together so tightly that Hal was rolling her hips to try and maximize the contact. Her fingers pushed up the hem of his shirt, her hands running up and down the length of his back, his skin delightfully warm and taut. She could feel how the muscles in his upper back moved, stretching and pulling as he ran his hands along the curves of her body, groping and kneading the tender flesh of her breasts through her top until she was moaning in his mouth.

She gasped softly as his lips trailed kisses from her mouth to her neck, his teeth nibbling, his tongue tasting. He ran his lips down her chest, her skin burning even through her top. But she wanted to feel his kisses on her skin. He kissed her between the valley of her breasts and down her stomach, finally slowing to a stop where he looked up to observe what he had created.

Hal's cheeks were stained with her tears, which had only just begun to slow in the throes of lust. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, eyes shining in the fire at the pleasant burn coursing through her body. Her skirt was hiked up to her thighs, and Murtagh was running his fingers gently along the skin on the inside of her legs, the temptation to finish what he had started overwhelming.

Hal felt dizzy as she tried to calm her breathing, shivering and shaking at every touch on her bare skin. She wanted him. Desperately.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice breathless as he stared at her. "Everything about you: your mind, your spirit, your heart…you are as beautiful inside as you are out, Halen."

He slowly crawled back on top of her, his grey eyes enchanting as he laid down beside her. Hal turned to face him, her mind still a flurry of emotions and feelings that she tucked away to sort through later. For right now, all she knew was him. And for right now, he was enough.

As she felt her body begin to relax, Murtagh's fingers smoothing the hair from her face in a tantalizing manner, she said, "Thank you, Murtagh, for staying. Not just here, on Illium, but with me, these last few days. I don't know what happened I just suddenly felt so lost and alone. I felt like I was suffocating. I felt like a failure and I panicked."

"Because of what happened at Berjis' village?"

"Because of everything! I was doubting every little thing I was doing, picking it apart until there was nothing left." She rolled onto her back, her tears running into her hairline. But she focused on the nighttime sky peeking between the trees. Focused on Murtagh's hand on her stomach. She took a few deep breaths. "I thought…" She wanted to tell him about the spirit. About how she had hoped it had been a member of her dead village. But after sharing her story, she knew she wasn't quite ready, and backpedaled quickly. "I think I can use magic without the Ancient Language."

He shuffled beside her. "I know."

She looked over at him in surprise. "You do?"

"You did hit me with a ball of air without saying anything." His voice was teasing, but Hal felt shame at her own lack of control. She looked away from him but he only pressed his lips to her ear, trailing kisses down her jaw. "Please don't be upset. I know you would never hurt me."

"I could have. It's not funny —"

"You wouldn't. I know you." He sounded so self-assured and confident that Hal only shook her head, not bothering to argue with him. "And I suspect you did not use the Ancient Language when you broke off that chunk of the cliff with the Ra'zac."

"No," she said in a low voice.

He nodded. "It is unusual, I will not lie to you. It seems like you do not typically use magic without the Ancient Language unless your emotions get the best of you, but still, try to keep the language in mind when you can." She nodded slowly. "But we _will_ figure it out, Hal. Do you trust me?"

She looked at him. "Of course I do."

"Then hear me carefully when I say this, Halen Zarasdaughter" — she shivered, realizing she had not heard her full name in twelve years, and there was a power in it, a reclaiming of an identity she had let go of — "no longer do I want you to feel trapped by your fears. Use me. Whether it is your past or your magic or something else — if you must run, run to me. We are stronger together. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you."

His gaze softened. "Then also know this: there is no blood on your hands. What's happening right now, what happened to the Xano Village, was not your fault. What happened to the Sani people — your people — wasn't your fault," he said tightly. "None of what is happening is your fault. The Shade and the Raz'ac did this. Galbatorix did this. His soldiers did this. There is no blood on your hands, Halen. Look at me." She begrudgingly met his gaze as he stroked her cheek. "You have done _nothing_ wrong. And I am not so arrogant as to assume my words will make your pain go away. But you know that I have never lied to you. And I will not start now: there is _no blood on your hands_. Say it."

Hal looked at him with wild eyes, unsure she had heard him correctly. He gave her a knowing look and she licked her lips.

"Say it, Halen," he repeated, his voice firm but gentle.

She hesitated for what felt like a lifetime. For every second that passed was a second she had internalized the very opposite. Murtagh could see her desire for relief from her demons with her habits clashing as she tried to cover her eyes with her hand. But he wouldn't have that. He wanted her to look into his eyes.

"There's no blood on your hands," he told her.

She swallowed. "There's…no blood on my hands?"

He smiled encouragingly. "Again."

She swallowed. "There's no blood on my hands."

"Again."

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought to maintain her composure. "There's no blood on my hands." A shuddering breath. "There's no blood on my hands." A choked sob. "There's n-no bl-blood on my hands. There's no blood on my hands. There's no blood on my hands. There's no —"

He cut her off with a searing kiss and she let out a small sound of surprise before responding to him. When he pulled away, he laid his forehead against her, his own tears splashing onto her cheeks. "Oh Halen," he breathed. " _My_ Halen."

Hal decided to let herself get lost in him, if only for a few more hours. Never mind how he muddled her thoughts, how she felt herself letting go of her inhibitions in an effort to hear her name fall from his lips like it was the taste of water after a drought. She wanted to run her fingers though his hair, feel his hands on her skin. She never wanted to hear her name fall from another's lips the way it did his. Never wanted to imagine that anyone else could make her feel the way Murtagh made her feel in this moment.

For the longest time, when it came to her feelings for Murtagh, it had felt like teetering back and forth over the edge of a cliff. She had never liked the idea of falling, preferring the option where her feet were firmly planted on the ground.

But she had fallen. Dived, actually, towards the water on the wings of a dragon. And she hadn't felt frightened.

She'd felt a rush.

And she wanted to feel that again, with Murtagh. Wanted to know what it was like to completely let herself go. To bask in the insanity of her emotions. To make real her fear of losing him and use it to hold him tighter, not push him away.

So, she took a leap of faith, and threw herself over the edge.


	37. Chapter 37: Proximity to Temptation

Hal awoke with a start, unsure as to why. A dream perhaps, but its contents were already long forgotten. But she still felt uneasy, listening carefully to make sure she did not hear anything out of the ordinary. She lay there in the dark, silently cursing her frazzled mind when she realized she still had some time before she actually needed to be awake. She refrained from groaning out loud. It was as if she had traded her night terrors for this, as though she were waking herself up before they could commence. It wouldn't be so bad if it didn't happen several times a night and still left her anxious.

She felt movement behind her and had to refrain from making a different kind of groan. Murtagh sleepily pushed his hips into her backside, completely oblivious. He threw a lazy arm across her waist. "You all right?"

She nodded, already forgetting why she was awake to begin with. His early morning voice made her stupidly weak. "Yes. Just a dream."

"Which one?"

"I don't know; I don't remember anything. But it's nothing more than a nuisance. I'm all right."

He grunted that he had heard, kissing the back of neck. "S'kay if I go back to sleep?"

"Yes, go ahead."

He was out almost immediately, and she laughed quietly, shaking her head. In all fairness, the people in the fields had been pushed lately to get the crops ready for harvest. Some days, Murtagh was out the door before Hal, and returning much later in the evenings.

She stared at the wall, enjoying the feel of him against her. Amongst other things. But despite how much trouble they could get into, they never went further than what was discussed. There were some days, through some unspoken agreement, long after Denu had gone to bed, she would return to Murtagh's room and climb into bed. Sometimes he came into her room. They made sure to leave before they were discovered, but in those moments, those nights, they felt like they were in their own world. Sometimes they went to sleep immediately, sometimes they talked for hours, but it felt intimate as they explored this new side of their relationship. Which was especially helpful if Hal was feeling anxious or stressed. She felt safer in his arms. To wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream and feel the heat from his body, his breath on her neck, was more of a comfort than she would have thought possible.

Hal smiled as Murtagh's fingers began to run the length of her arm, small bumps rising in response to his touch. "Are you suddenly not tired?" she teased.

"No, but at least I have you to help me wake up."

His lips were on her neck, his teeth playfully biting down on her skin before running his tongue across it. He pressed his hips into her and she had a fleeting thought that perhaps he wasn't as oblivious as she had assumed. His lips seemed to move at a calculated pace, sending her skin abuzz at a speed that was easy-going and light.

Okay, no, it wasn't all innocent. But she certainly wasn't complaining.

She threw her arms around his neck, twisting so that she could kiss him. She pulled away, laughing. "Heavens, rider, your breath is horrible."

"Funny, doesn't seem to stop you most mornings."

"That's because you're so damn cute."

"Cute?" he repeated, as if affronted.

"It's meant to be a compliment. It shows growth and maturity. Remember when you were once just adorable?"

"I'll show you cute…"

Hal's laugh was lost as he pulled her in for another searing kiss, his tongue suggestive and teasing. The ache was bad, as strong and needy as ever. Hal rotated her hips, trying to alleviate the pressure growing in her groin. She hated how desperate he made her feel. It wasn't uncommon for her, at this point, to return to her room and rub herself furiously until she came. Especially as his touch became more confident, more eager and exploratory, giving her imagination more ammunition than it needed.

Just like now.

She regretfully broke away. "We should stop." She could feel his disappointment, only a mirror of her own. She turned so that she could face him, giving him a remorseful smile. "Before this goes further, faster than we expect it to."

"I know, I know."

She patted his chest before sitting up, stretching and cracking her back as Murtagh asked, "Where are you going so early?"

"Figured, since I'm awake, I might as well get some practice in."

He grunted before sitting up as well. "I'll join you. I've got nothing better to do for a while."

"You don't have to —"

He silenced her with a slow kiss that was too suggestive and cruel to not lead to something more. "I figured, since I can't have you the way I want, I may as well find other creative means of getting you on your back."

He barely managed to dodge her foot, darting away laughing as he went to freshen up. And despite how vastly she had improved, as always, he made good on his word. But at least it was only once, and Hal had stupidly tripped when a particularly difficult set of footwork threatened to twist her ankle.

He continued to praise her on her keen senses, quick thinking, and creative techniques, but he always seemed just one step ahead of her. And it was starting to get frustrating.

"You look upset," he muttered quietly, his face red from the exertion of their sparring. He handed Hal her canteen, having just refilled it since she was too worn out to move from her spot. She sat up as he sat down beside her, leaning back against a tree for support.

"Not upset, just a sore loser."

He nodded. "I've been thinking about that, actually."

Her lip curled in a sneer. "Charming."

He laughed. "No, not that you're a sore loser!" Hal relaxed some. "I meant the reason why."

"You've had years to practice, it's only natural —"

"Not just that." His chest was rising and falling quickly, but when he spoke, his tone seemed even and relaxed. "May I see your sword?"

"You mean _your_ sword," she reminded him, passing it to him, handle first.

"It hardly feels right to take it back from you."

"It was never mine to begin with."

"My _point_ ," he continued with broad grin, "is that there are very few blades that can measure up to a rider's sword. Ours are forged with a rare metal known as brightsteel, crafted in the woods by an elf. At least Zar'roc was."

"I take back my comment about your attendance at the king's balls. _That_ was perhaps the fanciest sentence I have ever heard." Murtagh hid his face behind his hands as he began to laugh, his eyes brightening. Hal grinned at the sight. "I'm sorry, I interrupted. Please, continue."

"I was simply wondering if you would feel confident with your own sword. One made for you, much like your bow. There might be something on Illium strong enough to withstand the blows you are dealt."

Hal had not thought about it before. The idea of it sounded nice, and she felt it could make a bit of a difference, although probably not enough to suddenly best Murtagh. But while she had grown comfortable with the hand-and-a-half, she realized that the weapons she was best with, even her daggers, were made for her palm, her height, grip, and strength factored into the carefully crafted pieces. That was why she treasured them so, but it was also why she felt more capable using them.

"Wouldn't it be too much work to make a sword though? I can still use yours for now."

"Are you sure? I could talk with Invidia and Blödhgarm about it just to get their opinion."

"I do not want to trouble you over anything unnecessarily," Hal countered. She gave him a kind smile. "But thank you for acting as though my losing might have been something other than my overall lack of skill."

He laughed.

They continued to rest until Invidia and Blödhgarm arrived, both pleased to see them already there and having been practicing. " _Shur'tugal_ , will you be joining us today?"

"No, I must be heading back before I'm late." He was already gathering his things, and for the briefest of moments, Hal felt a familiar twinge in her chest at the thought of his departure. However, she ignored it, preferring to chalk it up to their sparring. They spent most of their days apart, so there would be no reason for it to bother her now. But she could not help but feel particularly sad that he was leaving. He threw his bag over his shoulder before leaning down to kiss Hal on her forehead. "Fight hard, _iet dunei_ ," he whispered, so that only she may hear. "I will see you this evening."

Hal nodded, and he departed before she had time to acknowledge whatever he had said in the Ancient Language. He knew she wouldn't know what it meant, which was rather annoying. She shrugged it off, making a note to ask him later. Blödhgarm jumped right into his lessons, preferring to get them in first due to Invidia's habit of wearing Hal out to the point of collapse. But before they began, she wanted to briefly redirect their lesson before she forgot her question.

Remembering to speak only in the Ancient Language, she asked, " _Why is the Ancient Language required when we use magic?"_ Her speech was still slow and choppy, lacking the deftness and fluidity of the elves. But it was good enough that they were able to respond. Usually.

Blödhgarm looked at her in surprise. " _Has Murtagh not told you?"_

" _We were pressed for time when he first began my lessons. Or, at least, we thought we were. So all he could mention was that magic for new users required the use of the language. He said only the most skilled magicians could perform non-verbal spells, but at a much greater risk, but the language itself was still needed."_

" _And he was right,"_ Blödhgarm explained. _"I imagine something happened for you to suddenly ask this question."_

Hal hesitated, but decided to tell them the truth, speaking plainly. "I've used magic several times now, without using of any sort of spell or the language. I didn't even use non-verbal spells. I just…it just happened. Usually because I was under emotional duress. But the biggest example was when I collapsed the cliff with the Ra'zac."

Blödhgarm reeled back, but did not seem as surprised as she would have thought. "We had been curious as to how you managed such a feat."

Invidia looked shocked. "That's not possible. I've never heard of such a thing before."

Blödhgarm, however, only looked mildly amused. "Come now, Invidia. You of all elves should know that just because we do not see something for ourselves, does not mean it's not real or isn't possible. Halen, walk me through exactly what happened."

She did, not shying away from any detail too small should it prove informative. When she was done, Blödhgarm looked amazed despite Invidia's disbelieving expression. "Murtagh is absolutely right. Your magic is not common, if it exists elsewhere at all. But that makes it all the more exquisite, and it is a very good chance that it is why the Shade is after you."

"How is her magic not bound by the Ancient Language?" Invidia demanded as Blödhgarm took a pebble his hand.

"Hal, you know what to do. Only this time, remove the Ancient Language from your thoughts altogether."

She hesitated, surprised he was giving her permission after Murtagh had told her not to. Was this all right? Surely, with Blödhgarm and Invidia close by, it would be okay. She breathed, focusing on her magic the way she would focus on the world around her. Everything fell away, the noises coming to a standstill. There were no distractions. There was nothing, except Hal, her magic, and the stone.

She imaged the pebble lifting from Blödhgarm's hand, focused on the weight and size of it as though she were planning on tossing it herself. She opened her eyes and simply commanded her focused energy on the rock. And suddenly, it shot out of Blödhgarm's hand with ferocity, and Hal leaped back in surprise, craning her head to see what happened to it. While stronger, even she knew her magic lacked the control that the Ancient Language brought with it.

Invidia gasped as Blödhgarm laughed with discovery. "This changes everything the world thought it knew about magic," he surmised. "Of course, we can never do that again for it could pose a risk, but that was astounding Hal. Tell me what your process was."

When she was finished speaking, the two elves looked quite beside themselves, although for different reasons. "No wonder your magic has always felt restrained," Blödhgarm continued. "It's as if the most natural state for your magic to be in is without the use of the language. This is truly fascinating."

"Why is that, exactly? Murtagh explained that the Ancient Language is practically required to use magic, but he mentioned it hasn't always been like this."

"No, it has not," Invidia said sharply. "And for good reason. According to myth, the people who were one of the first to inhabit Alagaësia used magic, almost as you do, without verbally speaking the language. But they still had to use it."

"What happened to them?"

"One of them nearly destroyed all of Alagaësia because of a stray thought. The remaining Grey Folk — as they have come to be known — used their remaining magic to bind the Ancient Language to magic itself so that users had to speak it to keep from getting distracted. They have since faded into obscurity and are presumed to no longer exist."

Hal felt no closer to understanding her strange abilities. So even those believed to be the originators of such magic still had to use the Ancient Language?

"Am I…am I human?" she whispered, not meaning to voice the question aloud. There was a heavy silence, one that made her chest tighten with all of the speculation surrounding her magic.

Blödhgarm moved closer, taking her hands in his. His smile was warm. "You are as human as I am elf. Do not fear your magic because you do not understand it."

"No one understands it," she challenged petulantly.

"Then you are truly one of a kind. Do not let fear ruin what you have worked hard for. Continue to use the Ancient Language — you are just as capable with it as you are without. Leave the rest to Invidia, Murtagh, and myself. We will do our best to aid you."

Hal nodded.

" _Now_ ," he said, leaning back and switching to the Ancient Language, " _let us continue; we are behind schedule."_

…

Hal was beyond sore and exhausted when she made it back to the hut, carrying a dead and skinned rabbit in her hands that she had caught for dinner. She quickly washed up and changed, boiling the meat and some veggies for a quick and easy stew. She was too tired to put much effort into anything else.

She could not help but feel foolish. When Invidia had first begun to talk about the Grey Folk, Hal's first reaction had been, perhaps, she was distantly related. But even their magic had required the use of language and, she had realized later, that no one in her family had shown a propensity for it. Not on accident nor on purpose. She had thought if there was something in her family, perhaps it could explain the strange quirk. But alas, she was back where she started with no information, no ideas, and no clues.

She straightened up around the hut, sweeping out the floors and taking down the laundry. She was rushing to have everything put away by the time Murtagh and Denu returned home that she almost missed the haunting chill that ran down her back. She turned, her laundry basket on her hips as she examined the woods, taking a wary step back. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet she was confident in her instincts. Something was watching her.

Or perhaps she had finally lost her mind.

She imagined, or perhaps she hoped, that it was the spirit again. But it did not reveal itself like it normally would, which made her falter a bit into doubt. It seemed like everything was enough to put her on edge. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feel safe. She wondered if she ever truly would…

 _Is everything all right?_

Hal jumped, having forgotten that Thorn was back. His neck was snacked around the side of the house, as if having sensed her distress. _Yes,_ Hal said slowly, glancing back at the forest, now doubting she had had sensed anything at all. _Yes, much better now. Thank you, Thorn._ He nudged her cheek encouragingly.

She had to douse her face with water repeatedly before the others arrived home to make sure her composure would not falter. Nothing had happened, and she did not want to raise any unnecessary flags because of her own paranoia. And Murtagh and Denu were too sharp when it came to her moods and emotions to miss anything.

They arrived home about the same time as they often did, their laughter reaching Hal long before they walked through the front door. And the allure of the sound made her momentarily forget her worries, as it gave her something meaningful and happy to focus on. She emerged from the kitchen, having just taken the bread out of the brick oven, just as they were stepping inside. Murtagh caught her eye and she did not even think to contain the smile that overwhelmed her at the sight of him.

"Good evening, my child," Denu declared, dramatically boastful as ever when he returned home. "And what have you prepared for us today?"

Hal cleared her throat in preparation for a grand presentation. "For you, Denu Davidsson, I have traveled to the far reaches of Illium, swam the deepest parts of the ocean, and hiked the highest mountain to prepare the finest meal known to man." She paused dramatically, letting their playful anticipation build. "A rich, extravagant…stew, with a side of honey-baked bread."

"A feast fit for a king!" She laughed at him as he began moving towards Hal, his expression firm and filled with purpose as if he and Hal had not danced this dance hundreds of times before. He reached out to place her, his hand touching her shoulder. Then he moved carefully until he was cupping her face in his hands. He pulled her down to kiss her forehead, but was easily distracted by the smell of foot that wafted towards him. "While Murtagh gets cleaned up, I _insist_ on sampling the wares to make sure everything is properly prepared for a man of my status."

"Oh, but of course." Hal said, bowing out of his way as he moseyed on past her towards the pot. "You deserve nothing but the best." That part, she was only half joking. She watched him carefully to make sure he did not accidentally hurt himself going for the spoon. But she always set it at a safe distance from the flames, and he then tapped the counter until he rapped against the pot, knowing where it was.

"Do not spoil your appetite, old man," Hal warned him.

"Bah," was all he said, waving his free hand to dismiss her, blowing on a spoonful of stew and otherwise preoccupied.

Hal rolled her eyes, but finally felt like she could look away, and nearly broke into a run to close the distance between herself and Murtagh. It was dizzying, how good it made her feel to see him again. And not just to see him, but to be able to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him, which was exactly what she did. She cursed herself whenever she thought of how long she had wanted this, how long she had denied herself such pleasures. But she was certainly relishing them now.

"I missed you today, _iet dunei_ ," Murtagh told her, his voice low so that Denu's sensitive ears didn't pick up their conversation.

Hal beamed at this, and the joy it brought out of her. "I missed you too," she admitted, her face flushed with shy pleasure at being able to say it back. Or, to be honest, to be able to say it all. And then she realized she had almost missed it again. "What, what does that mean?"

He was thoughtful a moment. "I supposed, in this particular instance, it means I was sad that I was not with you. I thought about you for most of the day, wishing you could — ow!"

Hal had pinched his arm. "You know that's not what I meant, you ass. What is…eet…i-et…yet…?"

He stepped overwhelmingly close. Close enough that she lost all train of that. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting her gaze a bit. His eyes were stormy with a secret. And Hal felt herself itching to know it. And itching for something else as well the longer he looked at her like that. " _Iet dunei_ ," he repeated, pronouncing it slowly.

Hal felt herself shiver, eyes riveted on the way his lips has moved as he spoke. "Yes…that's the one," she said, feeling a little breathless.

He grinned knowingly. "I can't tell you. It's a secret."

"Liar, it is not."

"I've never lied to you, Hal," he tossed back with a superior smirk. But there was something else in his expression she could not quite fathom entirely. But it was gone before she could study it properly.

She was about to argue when Denu came back out of the kitchen. "I'm too old for you two to be holding up my dinner. I will eat without you if I must!"

Murtagh shot Hal a look of faux anger. "Look, now you're getting me into trouble."

"Keep it up, rider, you'll eat outside."

But his taunting grin robbed her of her senses, and she knew that without having to say anything at all, he had still gotten the last word in. Bastard.

It felt like one of the longest nights in Hal's life. For once, dinner, dessert, and wine all dragged out, everyone chatting away merrily about the work in the fields, recent gossip, and other such nonsense. Hal, at first, was simply content, unable to fathom her own blessings. At times, Murtagh would catch the serene happiness on her face, and his expression would soften as they shared a knowing smile. But after quite a few of these, she began to grow anxious, eager to be with Murtagh privately. She wanted to have him to herself for a few more hours before they went to sleep.

To get Murtagh back for his earlier cheek, Hal began to casually and randomly shoot Murtagh suggestive glances over her wine glass or while he was in the middle of telling a story, causing him to stumble and blush uncontrollably. She had to hide her laugh, coughing into her hand, which she was sure didn't convince Denu of her innocence in distracting him. But at least the old man couldn't hear or see the way she would bite her lip at Murtagh. _That_ , she was able to keep between herself and the rider.

When Denu began to yawn rather incessantly, Hal finally called it a night. Regardless of how anxious she was to spend time with Murtagh, Denu always was her first priority. "Come on, old man. Let's get you settled into bed —"

"Here, let me," Murtagh said suddenly. "Let me help for a change."

"It's fine, I've got him."

"Halen."

His voice was stern, and Hal fumbled in surprise. "Oh my," Denu mumbled, as though embarrassed. "You both will make an old man blush, fighting over me like this."

They both tried not to laugh.

"All right fine, rider, you win," Hal relented, sitting back down as Murtagh took Denu's arms.

"And don't even think about touching the dishes. I'll do those when I get back."

The command in his voice left little room for argument, and Denu's brows lifted in amusement at Hal as he and Murtagh walked out. Hal laughed with disbelief, sitting her chin in her hand while she waited. Putting Denu to bed wouldn't take long. He often just needed help with minor things, like making sure things were put away precisely where they needed to be so that he could find them again.

Eventually she strolled to the window, breathing in the silence of the night as she poked Thorn's side to tease him as well, and they chatted for a bit. Murtagh came in then, collecting the dishes and ignoring Hal's offers to help. When he finally returned, she was waiting impatiently for him, arms crossed and expecting an explanation. He rolled his eyes, sitting down on his cot, back far enough that he could rest against the wall. Hal remained standing. "You always do the chores here," he clarified at last. "I could certainly offer to help more."

"You are out working the fields every day. Even if I do get out, I'm just helping with the children. You shouldn't have to tire yourself with such mundane tasks."

"Do not trivialize your lessons. I know you're exhausted. Besides, I want to help, Hal," he said. "This is my home now too. I can and should pull my own weight."

She stood there, stunned. The silence felt heavy as her mind tried to process his words, to make sure she had not misheard. Then her eyes began to swim with tears. She blinked. "Truly?" she whispered. "You see this as your home?" She had assumed so, but he had never actually said the words aloud since he had decided to stay. It was always "Denu's hut", or "the spare room". Anything that kept him from actually claiming what had long since belonged to him.

He looked at her and his expression softened when she realized she was crying. "You are so sensitive," he teased.

"Then you should not say such things so suddenly," she berated. He grabbed the material of her skirts, pulling her towards him until she was sitting down on the edge of his cot. He took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.

"Come now, _iet dunei_ ," he laughed, his voice lilting with surprise at her emotional response. "Why are you crying?"

She immediately shook her head. "Heavens, it's too stupid to admit."

He studied her for a moment, his thumb rolling across the skin of her cheek. "Hal, you could tell me that the sky is green, the ocean black, and that Thorn is a cat. And even still, I could never think someone like you is stupid. You have far proven otherwise and I would not dare think so low of you."

She may not have been stupid, but her smile certainly was at his words. "You certainly make a fool out of me, Dragon Rider." He looked oddly triumphant about that. Hal nervously bit on her lip. "Do you remember the morning after we woke up together? The morning after you asked if I would travel with you?"

He tucked her hair back behind her ear. "I do."

Hal knew she would never forget it, so she was relieved he remembered it as well. And judging by how gentle his confirmation was, she could only imagine he recalled it as fondly as she did. Quietly, she admitted how, after he had fallen back asleep, she had watched him for a bit. And she had seen how peaceful he looked. And how she hoped that wherever he ended up, he would sleep that peacefully again. And at the time she had wished…she had wished…

"I wanted you to choose me," she admitted. "Despite how confusing my feelings for you were becoming, even then I knew that much. That I wanted you to stay, and choose me. And the Tenari. And Illium. And a small part of me feared that we…that I wasn't enough. But I was willing to let you go because I wanted you to be happy.

"So, to hear that you think of this place as your 'home' it just…it feels like a wish come true," she finished. She sniffed, laughing at her own ridiculousness and beside herself with joy. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and smiled. She rolled her eyes playfully, trying to soften her own emotions. "Now I know why Denu kept crying when I said it. It feels nice. It feels _good_. Like you chose us. Like you wanted us and I just —"

Murtagh leaned in so close, Hal could count his lashes as they brushed against his cheeks. Could feel his breath on her skin, causing her face to grow warm. He then slowly closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, enveloping her in a warm embrace. And she marveled at how easily and quickly this intimacy him had become so natural. Almost from the first kiss, she had sensed a rightness to it. The way his mouth would unlock hers, and how her body would awaken when he did. She did not know how much more of this heated modesty she could take.

She had to pull away to catch her breath, still flustered from crying. Murtagh's lips brushed against hers, gentle, like a silent promise. "And if I ever had to do it over again, I would choose you and the Tenari every single time."

He stared at her, hard, and she nodded to show that she heard him. That she understood. He kissed her again, this time with much less restraint than before. He placed his arm around her shoulder while his hand held the back of her knee, carefully moving her towards the top of his cot so that her head would rest on the pillows as he leaned her back, never breaking the kiss. His touch felt different, slower. Like there was no need to rush. She wasn't going anywhere.

And neither was he.

His body fit perfectly between her legs, his hand still cupping the back of her knee to keep them open. The weight of him on top of her was searing in its bliss, even through their clothes. Their kiss deepened, a familiar intensity driving them like it did many times before. The heavy neediness of the moment, the careful dance of how far to push themselves. And Hal began to realize she was dangerously close to losing.

When Murtagh tore his lips away, she thought he was doing the responsible thing. Thought he was going to remind her they needed to stop. Instead, his lips fastened onto her neck. And in that moment, the skin near her throat felt more sensitive than usual, and Hal lost her head completely. She dug her fingers into his hair, holding him to her, relishing in every illicit thought running through her mind. Every fantasy she had welcomed when she was alone at night reared itself, and she wanted it all. Wanted to know if his hand gripping her thighs would feel as good as she imagined. Wanted his kisses to explore her body the way his hands did. She wanted uncontrolled and unrefined, not careful and chaste.

"Hal!"

Murtagh was laughing as he suddenly kissed her again, but he pulled away and said, "You are going to give us away if you keep making those noises."

"I — what?" She hadn't even been aware of herself.

His expression was teasing, but the magic was lost. "We should get some sleep. It's late."

Hal felt a surge of frustration, but not with Murtagh. With herself, and these rigorous expectations. She sat up just as he began to lie down, but he stopped when he saw the look in her face. "Actually, I think I'm going to sleep in my room tonight."

"Oh." He was disappointed, she could hear it. She turned to look at him as he asked, "Are you sure?"

"No," she admitted. "But I will."

He nodded, and Hal leaned forward and kissed him. She quickly deepened it, nearly climbing into his lap as she gripped the front of his tunic, feeling how his heart raced underneath. Then she tore herself away, panting a bit as she shot him a wicked, secret smile. "Don't worry, rider. I will be thinking of you fondly in my dreams even though we are only a room apart."

She could tell by his flushed, yet innocent smile that he had no idea what she meant to do the second she got behind closed doors. But if she did not relieve herself of this ache soon, she would become increasingly temperamental. She whispered to him a soft goodnight, barely looking back as she left. She did not know how far they planned to take this. Everything still felt too new and fresh to ruin with anything heavy and domestic. She could see in his face how happy Murtagh was with this progression and she did not want to do a single thing he was uncomfortable with. She did not want to be selfish and ask more of him than he was willing to give.

But heavens, she hoped he would give her _something_. And soon.


	38. Chapter 38: Invocation

**A/N: Feels like I'm long overdue for a quick "Thank You!" Thank you for reading, following, reviewing, and all those fun things. It means the world. As always, I hope you continue to enjoy. And just as an FYI, the end of this chapter is brought to you by the letter L for lemon. Or M for Mature. Because we're all adults here, right?**

 **Happy reading.**

* * *

"What are we looking for again?"

"It's in the book, just check where I've marked it."

Murtagh _tsked_ in irritation. He refrained from explaining to Hal — for the hundredth time or so — that she had almost every page in her book marked. He decided in that moment to give up helping. She hardly needed him anyway. And if she did, she would call to him and tell him exactly what she wanted him to do.

For the past few asks, it's been to simply stop talking.

He couldn't complain though. She had warned him that when she was out searching for plants and herbs for Mennes, she did not like getting distracted. Certain flowers had to be pulled at the right time of bloom, roots had to be cut at the right angle, and there were signs of infection that were easy to miss and dangerous to humans if ground up and served as medicine. So no, she could not talk and she was not easily distracted.

He stayed close, observing her with a faint smile on his face as she worked, completely unaware that he was even doing so. He liked watching her be in her own world. Truthfully, he also just liked watching her. And she certainly seemed in slightly better spirits than she had as of late. Whatever had been making her frustrated that last couple of weeks, she seemed to have made peace with it since they had left this morning. They had traveled on horseback to the western part of the island where Hal intended to fetch most of what she needed off of Mennes' list. The trees grew much further apart here, the sun beating down on them with extreme intensity. But Hal thrived in it as she always did. He quietly joked to himself that she could've been an elf in a past life — he had never seen anyone else more inclined to nature as she.

"Ah-ha, there you are you!"

Murtagh had to refrain from laughing out loud, although Hal probably would've ignored him otherwise, as she started digging in the dirt near the base of a tree.

"Rider, bring me one of the things from over there."

"What size?" he asked, knowing by now what her vague and unhelpful directions were now alluding to.

"The smaller one. Quickly please."

He tossed her the vile she needed, holding on to the cork after she had fussed him out earlier for leaving it on, costing her valuable seconds because it then had to be removed. He had then taken all of the corks off the bottles to avoid further insult to his character and intelligence.

She stuck what seemed to be her entire arm into the base of a tree trunk, straining to reach whatever it was she need. He stood before her, and she shot him a silly grin. "You have never looked more beautiful to me then you do right now."

She threw her leg out to kick him, which he easily dodged with her limited range of movement. "Ass," she said with laugh. "Got it!"

She scrambled back, her arm up to her elbow coated in a thick syrup-like substance, but it was almost clear in color. "Sap," she explained with a grin, holding up her now full bottle so that he could see. "It's used in your favorite medicine to help treat severe infections."

"Ahh yes. The liquid fire."

She smiled. "It's quite harmless now —"

"That or you have a high propensity for pain," he said, gesturing to her arm.

"— but when you heat it under high temperatures, it's healing properties kick-in."

"So, it's _actually_ liquid fire?"

She threw her head back and laughed.

As they walked to their next, nearby destination, Hal forging along up ahead and muttering to herself as she read through her list, Murtagh reached out for Thorn. _Aww, is Hal not showering you with enough attention_? Thorn teased.

 _Shut it. You know, you're getting just as mean as she is._

 _I will tell her you said that. And she will also take it as a compliment._

At that, Murtagh had no doubt. _How are you faring where you're at?_

 _Quite well, actually. I found a wild boar to occupy my hunger. I will probably head back to the village in another hour or so._

He felt a sticky hand on his chest and Murtagh stopped and stared at Hal who placed a calm finger to her lips. He kept still as she went to the horses, stroking their noses gently, keeping them calm and still. Panic seized him, but when he reached for his sword at his hip, she quickly shook her head and moved her eyes up ahead. Whatever was coming that was cause for such silence, she did not want them armed, which ruled out Ra'zac as he had first suspected.

Just then, a small litter of lovuk pups came running out from between the trees, making for the river. They lapped joyfully, still too sweet and young to make any sort of menacing howl. But the lovuk that followed close behind them was a different story entirely.

He could feel Hal's hand on his chest, keeping him calm. It was perhaps the only reason he had not instinctively gone for his sword anyway out of sheer panic. And she had the other on Murtagh's horse. Nani was clearly more accustomed to such nerve-wracking run-ins. Murtagh didn't dare move, hardly breathed as the mother spotted them and stared them down, gauging whether or not they were a threat. He had not seen a lovuk this close since the attack where he had saved Hal, and although she had said repeatedly that that wasn't normal behavior, he couldn't help but notice that this particular female was about as big as the horses and could crush he and Hal under her brute weight alone.

But Hal looked absolutely calm and in control of the situation. He had longed to see her in action, and he realized that he was. A hunter, fierce and capable. She had known the signs that lovuk were coming before he had even seen the creatures. And now she stared down the lovuk as if talking to the female, two proud women measuring the power and strength of the other.

The lovuk mother finally turned away and took her drink from the river. It felt like hours that they could not move, and the lovuk gave a final lingering look as she and her pups disappeared back into the trees. After several long moments, Hal reached for her bow and an arrow on her back, nocking it. "Stay here and watch the horses," she told him. "I'll make sure she's gone."

He felt in awe of her as she moved slowly, keeping low to the ground, her arrow ready to fire with confidence. She would not miss, he knew. He found himself hardly anxious as she disappeared briefly, making sure the lovuk were truly gone before they continued forward.

"Ahh, son of a —!"

Murtagh rushed forward. She didn't sound hurt, just irritated, but concern still egged him on as he dragged the horses behind him to where he heard her swearing colorfully.

Hal emerged right in front of him, shaking her boot with a look of annoyance. "I stepped in a heaping pile of their shit," she whined.

Murtagh coughed, revolted, as the smell hit him. He pinched his nose. "I feel like the luckiest man alive right now," he gasped, eyes burning as she got closer.

"I will smear this on your face, do not test me, Morzansson."

She continued to grumble as she tried to wipe the bottom of her boot on the bark of a nearby tree. When she was satisfied, she placed her hands on her hips and grinned. "Wasn't she magnificent?"

He smiled. "Yes, she was," he said, thinking nothing of the lovuk.

"I mean, I was worried for a second when I realized I could hear the pups. Mothers are _never_ far behind — always remember that, rider —and we had no place to go. I mean, if she attacked us, it may have had to come down to magic, because female lovuk are dangerous, especially near their little ones. But one of the reasons I didn't want us to draw our weapons is because I didn't want her to immediately see us as a threat. You even move to lower your sword and she could've mistaken it for an attack and pounced. Me and the men ran into one once a few years back, barely had time to get our asses in the closest trees before she was on us. And all because one of the pups got excited when it saw the dead squirrel in my hand that I had caught for my lunch and ran towards me. She nearly took my leg off in the attack. I did get a pretty interesting scar out of it though. At least that's what Cado said to make me feel better."

Murtagh thought carefully, trying to recall if he had seen such a scar. Like perhaps when she had been sick and he had cleaned her. Or, he thought with a blush, a moment when he had run his hands across her skin.

"It's here," she said with a laugh, as if knowing exactly what he was thinking. He looked up and swallowed, suddenly feeling a different kind of tension. She had pulled part of her shirt up, revealing the top of three, claw-like scars just below her hip, disappearing underneath the waistband of her trousers. It was such a vague part of her skin to see, she didn't even lift her shirt past her waist. Yet his face still burned a shameful color of red as she said, "It's not too bad, she only got a few inches out of me. Hurt like fire though." Hal looked up then and noticed how hard he was staring at her, and seemed to realize exactly what he was thinking at the same time Murtagh became embarrassed by it.

But he also couldn't look away. Nor did he want to.

Hal watched him, as if waiting to see what he would do. And he wanted to pin her against the tree and have her right then and there. Hal made him want many things. But he felt selfish for all of them. And that wasn't who he was anymore. At least, that's what he told himself every single time he forced himself away from her.

"It's getting harder, isn't it?" Hal asked. And he did not need her to clarify what she meant.

"It is," he agreed, his smile pained. "But I wish to do right by you. And we said we would not consummate anything."

Hal nodded, looking as disappointed as he felt. "I know." The same look of frustration she had been wearing before returned, and it was like a slap to the face at how suddenly obvious it all seemed now. To the high heavens, was he that dense?

He looked up, embarrassed by his own naivety. "We should uh…start heading back. Before we're late for dinner."

Hal blinked and glanced up at the position of the sun in her sky. Her features transformed into shock. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit, we need to go!"

"Hal —"

"No talking, start riding. So help me, Denu is going to kill me if we are late!"

She seemed strangely frantic, but she climbed on top of Nani and took off with haste. Murtagh, not having a moment to spare, followed before she left him behind.

…

By the time they made it back to the village, it was practically sundown and they were late for dinner with Amon and Tena. Hal was pestering him to hurry as he put the horses away.

"It's your bloody fault we're running behind," Murtagh hissed as they ran to the hut. "You said this trip was supposed to take you a few hours."

"A few turned into a lot, how are you surprised by this? Look at who you're talking to."

He snorted. She had him there.

"I already picked out your clothes for tonight. Tena should have laid them out for you while we were out," she said as she ducked into the woods.

"Wait, where are you going?" Murtagh asked.

"Back to the hut, let's come this way."

"Why? We can just cut through the center, it'll be faster."

"Yes, but I have no desire to run into Tena and explain why I'm not ready. Do you?"

He paused. "Through the woods it is."

Hal, who was filthier than a child who had been rolling in mud, would have to bathe in the river. Denu warned them to hurry as he was leaving, saying he would meet them there. Murtagh couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw Denu and Hal exchange a look, which unnerved him whenever they did since the old man couldn't see. How they did it, he would never know. But they were just simply that close.

Murtagh was finally clean, brushing his hair out when he saw the clothes that Hal had picked out for him and paused. They were nicer than he had anticipated. The material of the trousers and vest felt like silk, pressed and a deep shade of red like Thorn's scales. The color felt intentional, and his lips twitched. He pulled on the pants first, setting his towel to the side.

As he was pulling his arms through a simple tunic, he heard Hal laughing. "You're still not dressed? How did I beat you?"

She appeared in front of him, and he sucked in his breath as he took in the form-fitting dress she wore. Her sleeves hugged her arms and stopped at her wrists, and she wore a gold band around her bicep. Her dress was a dazzling shade of deep green. As she quickly went through the buttons on his shirt, he could not take his eyes off her. Her hair was still damp, and she had pinned part of it back, but left the rest hanging down. She looked so achingly beautiful, and he could not get the sight of her from earlier today out of his head. She was like two different people, crawling around in dirt one moment and standing before him looking like the daughter of a royal the next moment.

When she finished the last button, he leaned down and kissed her, hungry. He pushed her back against the wall, her small gasps making him suddenly more aggressive. He felt like his chest was about to burst. He needed her. He ached for her like he never had before.

"We have to go," she breathed, and he delighted at how quickly she succumbed to him, sounding distracted and aroused as he pressed forward, kissing her neck.

"I'd rather stay," he grunted. "We'll lie and tell them I was too tired to attend dinner."

"Hmm." She seemed to almost be considering it when, "No, Murtagh stop!" She was laughing, but he pulled away. "Hurry, put on your vest and sandals. This is important, we have to go."

"Don't get me wrong, because I love Amon and Tena," he began, doing as she said, "but why?" When he was done, she took his hand and pulled him out of the hut. She was moving quickly so he decided to stop slowing her down intentionally.

"You'll see."

"Hal —?"

She led them right past Amon and Tena's hut, which was empty and still. In fact, many of the huts were, which was highly unusual for the evening hour. Everyone should be inside for dinner, getting cleaned up after returning from the day's chores. Murtagh felt his throat grow tight, unsure as to why. No, because he suddenly had an inkling as to why, but he was too afraid to hope.

"Halen?"

But she did not stop. Not until she finally reached the center of the village. Not until Murtagh could see for himself why a trip that should've taken Hal a few hours suddenly took an entire day.

Hanging above their heads, tied down to wooden beams planted deeply in the earth, was a banner with childish handwriting that said WELCOME HOME MURTAGH AND THORN! There were tiny handprints around the banner, and Hal turned back to him and said, "The children wanted to make it themselves."

Murtagh finally looked down, blinking past his tears as hundreds of eyes gazed back at him, Thorn's included. Everyone was beaming, knowing by his shocked expression that they had successfully caught him unaware.

"We wanted to surprise you," Hal said in a low voice. "Thorn as well, but it looks like he came in early."

"We asked him not to tell," Cado grinned, coming forward.

 _And I was still very much surprised_ , Thorn assured her, speaking into her mind and Murtagh's directly.

"You did all of this?" Murtagh gasped, barely able to hide his emotion as he looked back at Hal.

"It was a joint effort," she said with a nonplussed shrug. "Everyone wanted to help. We just hate it took us so long to remember. You and Thorn should've gotten this ages ago."

He let his eyes drink it all in for a moment. The hanging lanterns that decorated the beams and nearby trees. The smell of meat roasting, ready for consumption. The hundreds of grinning faces looking up at him. A party. They were throwing _him and Thorn_ a party. He began to laugh, and then began to cry. And then he was laughing again. He was sure he sounded a bit mad, but no one looked at him that way. He could've sworn he saw a few people already wiping their cheeks.

"Ah, Layla," Hal called, and the girl eagerly rushed forward, a big smile on her face. "Why don't you take Murtagh up front so that we may begin."

The girl nodded and reached for his hand, so tiny and trusting in his. She began to pull him through the crowd of people when he stopped her, just for a moment. He turned to Hal and took her face in his hands, fighting every instinct in his body that said to screw everything and kiss her in broad view of everyone. But he refrained, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I do not deserve you," he said quietly so that only she could hear. He sniffed. "I don't deserve this."

She smiled, touching his cheek softly. "Yes, rider, you do. You _really_ do. Now go, before Layla throttles me. She has been waiting for this for two weeks."

He thought he would cry again as the girl took his hand and pulled him forward through the thick crowd. Hands reached out as they went through the crowd, soft touches, gentle pats, and firm grips. Brief, yet multiplied by dozens felt like an outpouring of love and acceptance that he had never before felt. _May that kiss be the first of many, softer touches your body receives._ At one point he felt his knees give out and he stumbled. And suddenly Amon was there, lifting him up like he weighed nothing.

"Don't worry, rider," the man assured him. "We've got you."

They led him to the front where Denu was standing at the same dais where he had performed the wedding ceremony, waiting with a smile so welcoming and warm that it felt like staring into the sun. The crowd parted so that Thorn could stand beside Murtagh, everyone else fanning out around them to see. Hands still gripped his shoulders, his hands, his legs, and his back. As if to say they would not let go. Not for anything. And he saw that hands had also been placed on Thorn as well. Hal appeared before him, standing beside Denu with an expression so overjoyed and bright that Murtagh thought his heart would burst with affection for her.

"Murtagh and Thorn," Denu began, his voice naturally booming over the crowd of people. "Welcome back. Or — should I say — welcome home." Murtagh felt his eyes fill with tears again. "I must apologize, as this ceremony is long overdue for the two of you. I will blame the oversight on my old age. Halen, here, has no excuse."

The crowd laughed as Hal playfully slapped his shoulder. But he could see in her sheepish smile that she was thinking that Denu wasn't wrong. She had simply forgotten. And he suspected their conversation from before, about Murtagh finally seeing this place as his home, reminded her.

As everyone quieted down, Denu continued. "You both have shown admirable fortitude and resiliency during your time here. Your compassion, humor, respect, and friendship has meant much to all of us gathered here today. You have made your way into the hearts of the Tenari. We are honored and humbled that you have decided to make our little village your home. And we hope you will stay a while."

Denu nodded to Hal, who reached back and procured an item, wrapped, that she held in her arms. She was already crying quietly, biting down on her lip to hold it together, and Murtagh would understand why when Denu spoke next. "I admit, this is not a ceremony we do often, as we do not get many strangers here. However, the last time I stood here, right where you stand now, rider, was a fifteen-year-old girl. And the day she formally asked to join our village was the same day I asked her to join my family. And now, I proudly ask that same young lady, to please step forward, and present the newest members of the Tenariono Village, with their gift."

His eyes never left Hal's as she closed the space between them. When she was standing before he and Thorn, close so that they both could see, she gestured for Murtagh to hold out his hands. He did, and she placed the soft bundle in his arms. She undid the string, pulling back the wrapping to reveal a blanket. She had him hold two corners, and then carefully unfolded the material, making sure it didn't touch the ground.

"It is a gift we give to our new villagers or new families," Denu continued. "Each patch was created and stitched by every household. So that even if the day comes where you are no longer with us on Illium, there will be no place you go, that we are not with you."

Murtagh's tears blinded him, and he fell to his knees, overwhelmed as he took in each beautiful patch that was adorned. He saw stitches of plants and animals, Thorn breathing fire, the sun and moon, and more. He pulled the blanket in, piece by piece until he was cradling it all in his arms, hugging it to his chest.

Hal kneeled down before him, her eyes bright with understanding. "You are so sensitive," she teased, wiping her own cheeks as she laughed.

"Do not mock him, Hal," Eli berated from nearby. "You were way worse than he is."

"She cried so hard," Cado explained, "those in the back thought she had suddenly gotten injured."

Hal unfolded like lightening, ripping her sandal off her foot and poising it to throw at both men when Tena's sharp warning stopped her in her tracks. While everyone laughed, Layla whined, stomping her foot. "Hal, I want to show them our dance!"

"Yes!" Denu said, clapping his hands together once. "We have food, we have wine, we have music, and we have dances. Let the homecoming celebration begin!"

The cheers went up around him as people began to move about. Hal returned to his side, watching he and Thorn with something akin to hesitation. "Was it all too much? I realize I could've gone for a smaller scale celebration but once people started to catch wind of what I was planning, they all wanted to help."

Murtagh still hadn't quite found his voice, like the shock still hadn't quite worn off. Thorn chuckled, speaking for them both. _It is perfect, Hal. It is absolutely perfect._

She relaxed, beaming so brightly with happiness that she hurt to look at. Murtagh felt himself begin to calm down, feeling like the weight was returning to his body. Hal wiped his face, and without thinking, especially with so many people around, he turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, surprising her with the barest of kisses. Then he took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, lingering a few seconds longer than acceptable to make sure he could convey what he could not in words. He could not kiss her lips. Could not touch her the way he so desperately wanted to right now. And right now, if he did not control himself, he feared he might throw caution to the wind.

He made sure his eyes lingered long and hard, even after he had lowered her hand back to her lap. He felt her shiver and knew she understood what he had not said aloud. Then she cleared her throat as if remembering there was a party going on, currently without them.

"Come along, dragon and rider," she said, clearing her throat again as she rose to her feet. "You heard the man. Let the celebration begin."

…

The party continued long into the night and into the wee hours of the morning. But Murtagh could hardly entertain the notion of sleeping and missing a moment of the spectacle. The villagers had shed their inhibitions, the celebration seemingly more grandiose than any other Murtagh had attended before. Several bonfires were lit as people danced. Food was prepared in a hearty fashion, barrels of wine and something stronger were brought out, with several reserved strictly for Thorn who crooned his appreciation. The children performed a dance, or perhaps a skit was more appropriate. Of course, Layla was Hal. And he was delighted and embarrassed to find that they were reenacting Hal's rescue of him — with startling inaccuracies.

He turned his head. As the guest of honor, he was kneeling in the front with the best view of all. "Hal?"

"Hmm?"

"Why on earth do they have you riding Thorn? And…is that meant to be an army of lovuk?"

"They have such active imaginations," she with a straight face, deftly ignoring his doubtful gaze as she took a sip of her wine. "Can't imagine where they get such ideas."

"Did you really have to call it the Kiss of Life though?"

Hal actually looked surprised and impressed. "That actually was not me. They must've used a bit of creative improvisation for that part."

"You think _that_ was the creative improvisation? Really, Hal?"

She shrugged innocently and Murtagh, laughing, vowed to never let Hal tell another story about him again.

Many, if not all, of the villagers made a point to approach Murtagh and Thorn with some small gift of welcome throughout the course of the night. Many were beads and clothes, some were breads and meats that had been carefully preserved and wrapped, along with baskets of fruits and vegetables. Hal loudly delighted in not having to hunt for a while. His favorite was Layla's: blood red flower petals pressed and preserved on a small piece of parchment. She handed it to him shyly, and he quickly kissed her cheek and she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Dance with me!" Layla said, dragging his arm towards the bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the drums.

Murtagh quickly dug his feet into the dirt, bashful. "Oh no, Layla. I can't."

"You only danced with Hal last time and that's not fair. Your Lieutenant Commander Warrior Princess _commands_ you to dance!"

But before he had a chance to argue, he was pushed forward and stumbled. Layla used his momentum to yank him towards her and he realized in horror he was once again in the middle of the celebration. Layla was patient with him, although he became so nervous about stepping on her feet that he hardly looked up. By the time she was tired enough to let him rest, he was popping the stiff bones in his spine from being hunched over because she was so small.

If he dared sit for a breather, people were thrusting drinks into his hands. He took them out of politeness and although they were good, he did not want to get drunk and make a fool of himself. Unlike Thorn who was roaring obnoxiously and hiccupping, all the while humming incessantly through his mental connection with Murtagh. The rider, although pleased his dragon was so happy, blocked him out.

"Are you enjoying yourself, young man?"

Denu sat down beside him and Murtagh smiled. "More than I ever have. Thank you, Denu."

"Oh, do not thank me. You deserve this because you earned it. I am quite proud of how far you have come. And I am quite honored to think of you and Thorn as part of my family, as I do with Hal."

The words were almost too sweet to bear, and Denu laid Murtagh's head on his shoulder while he fought the urge to cry again. "We all have a choice in life," Denu continued, his voice strong and low, but clear despite the noise around them. "And those choices can sometimes lead us astray. But I've always told Hal, that even when we are at our lowest, our choices can still, eventually, lead us to something good if we have the patience to see where they take us.

"You and Halen have endured your fair share of miseries and heartbreak. And I have come to see Hal thrive and endure like a flower in a storm. You have done the same as well. Be proud of that. And remember that, despite where you've been in life, _this man_ is the man we see before us. And we celebrate him tonight."

Murtagh sat up, running his hand down his cheeks to find his composure. "May I ask —?" He cleared his throat. "May I ask why Hal's was so many years after her arrival?"

Denu's smile was sad but he nodded his head. "What she lost — it took us a while to earn her trust. Took us even longer to earn her love. But I think, Rider, that it took her all that time to realize that it was okay to move on. We never wanted to force the option on her. Never wanted her to think that we could ever replace what she had lost. But I think, when it happened, was perfect."

Knowing what he did about her past, Murtagh couldn't agree more.

After Denu stood to continue mingling and finding more sweets to snack on, patting Murtagh on the back as he left, Murtagh glanced around. He realized only then that he had not seen Hal for some time, which was unusual. Usually his eyes just gravitated towards her as if her very presence pulled him in.

As if knowing he was looking for her, he felt the barest of touches in his mind, hesitant and careful, seeking permission. He would recognize her mind anywhere now and gently lowered part of his shields as an image of his room flashed across his vision. She withdrew and he rose to his feet.

No one seemed to notice that he had left, and he realized that the sky overhead would soon be growing light. He smelled of smoke from the fire, his skin pleasantly warm. But all he could think about was who waited for him a short distance away, having called to him.

Hal was indeed in his room, having lit a torch so that there was just enough light for them to see. The shadows of the flame danced across the room, the light softening Hal's features, her brown skin aglow and her eyes vibrant. She rose, already barefoot, as he entered, and his stomach clenched at her shy smile as he closed the door behind him.

He would not take her here, he would not take her here, he would not take her here, he had to keep reminding himself. But his hunger for her had grown to obscene lengths, and just the thought of her under him made him wanton.

When he was standing before her, her smile grew playful. "Hello."

Murtagh grinned ridiculously. "Hi."

"Are you enjoying yourself, rider?"

"Immensely."

"Good. Because now I must ruin your party by presenting you with my gift. And I must ask that you refrain from laughing."

Ha! She could present him with a sock and he would be inspired to move mountains. But rather than showering her with sentiment, he teasingly threw back, "I may laugh, so I cannot make any promises."

Her eyes danced. "I am a terrible influence on you."

"The absolute worst."

Her smile was so charming that he could not help but lean down and press his lips to hers, his stomach rolling, his heart racing madly under his tunic. Only when she didn't move to touch him like she normally would did he realize she had something hidden behind her back. Curious, he slowly ended the kiss, raising his head in delight at the breathlessness on her face.

"So," she began, speaking once more, "I originally intended this as a sketch. But Invidia saw what I was doing and she actually helped me turn it into a fairth. So that it would last longer. And she was kind enough to put some added spells on it to make sure it was not easily damaged."

Even though he could not see it, he could hear the blush in her voice. And her nervousness was so endearing that he knew he would not dare laugh unless the fairth had a literal joke inscribed on it. When she hesitated, he stepped impossibly closer and asked, "May I?"

Her eyes flickered up to his, and something in his chest stirred again. Something sweet and frightening in its hold over him. And the longer she held his gaze, the stronger that feeling became. In fact, even as she looked away to reveal the object behind her back, Murtagh found himself bursting with desire to tell her the only secret he had left to tell her. But he clamped down on the notion for now, not wanting to lose a second of this moment as it was.

She handed the parcel over and he gripped it firmly in one hand while the other unwrapped the thin cloth covering it. It was a stone tablet, and he let the cloth fall to the floor as he turned the item over and felt like the air had been kicked out his lungs.

He was looking at an image of himself and Thorn. And he recognized the scene immediately: it was on the clifftop, when Hal had taken them to see the sunrise as a thank you. Their faces were only in profile, but the likeness was so striking that Murtagh raised his hand to the tablet in awe. The sharp features of his nose and cheeks were so much like his father's, the shape and color of his eyes so much like his mother. But the hope and wonder in them were all Murtagh. There were lines of worry around his eyes, tension in his shoulders, a firm hand on Thorn's side as the dragon was captured in the moment he had roared his gratitude. Hal's eyes had not missed a thing.

"You are not the same man you were many months ago when I first found you," Hal whispered, her hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. "And it was in that moment that I knew you had changed. That you had hope for your future, and for Thorn's. And I wanted you to have a way to always remember what that looks like. I wanted you to have a way to see your face the moment you knew you were capable of more than what you had been led to believe. You are stronger than you realize, Murtagh. And you have inspired me in ways I did not think I could be. And now, with this fairth, you can never forget it. I certainly won't."

"Is this…is this truly how you see me?"

His voice wavered with stunned emotion, but his eyes were surprisingly dry. She smiled and nodded. "Do you like it?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. Did he… _like_ it?

He set the fairth down carefully on the nearby table, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her without warning or pretense. She immediately responded, wrapping her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He could feel all the ways in which he was responding to her touch, and her to his. But something in this kiss felt different. He couldn't put his finger on it, and he wondered if Hal felt it to. It was a subtle shift, but something about it made him feel bolder. More daring. Hungrier.

His stomach was coiling tightly like a snake, perhaps from nerves, but his mind was clear and sharp, focusing on the sweet taste of her lips and tongue. He pressed her up against the wall, his hands running down her breasts, taking them in his hands. He kneaded them gently at first, then harder as her kisses became more aggressive, arching against him as if to ask for more. And he was more than happy to oblige. She whined into his mouth and the sound made him struggle for composure. He wanted to kiss and caress her until he discovered what other sounds she would make.

He felt her hand between their bodies, and something told him to look down. His knees went weak. She was trying to rub herself between the material of her skirts. "Murtagh," she panted, twisting her hips against him. "Murtagh, I want you to touch me."

He felt himself twitch in arousal her words. He knew she didn't mean her back or stomach. As exploratory as they had gotten, there was still a manner of awareness in every touch and kiss. In the beginning, he had thought it was simply to make sure they did not go too far and risk her honor. But the longer they had carried on as of late, the more he realized it was easier to maintain a sense of control so long as his touches were of innocent areas or above her clothing. So, to hear her command, to see her hand between her legs, made him dizzy with a new kind of need. "What?"

"Please," she begged, arching against him once more for added effect. His face turned beet red, his breathing hoarse as his eyes followed her every move. "It is not breaking our promise. We will not consummate anything. But you are driving me slowly insane and I'm tired of doing it myself all after the fact. It's not enough for me anymore."

It took him several long moments to process what she was admitting to him. He pictured it. Pictured all the times she had rushed out of his bed like she was embarrassed of how aggressive they would get, thinking it was just a means of remaining chaste. He swore to himself, coming to realize she had been leaving to touch herself. And that she was so emboldened by him to say so…

His fingers drifted teasingly along the top part of her hips. "Are your sure?" His voice was already husk with lust. "You would be okay with this?"

"Would you? I know this is rather sudden. But I feel like I'm not the only one who has been wanting more as of late."

He shook his head. "No, you are not." He licked his lips slowly, feeling less resistance to the idea. "Is this cheating?"

"I don't know. Probably. But, truthfully, I don't care. I would have all of you if I could." Heavens, she knew how to make his head spin. "But since the risk it poses is too great, I will gladly take what I can get."

He was quiet, but not because he was still hesitant. But because he had never heard Hal sound so…uncontrolled. Desperate even. And he realized that he had never had such sensual power over anyone before. But he preferred that it was Hal, and only Hal. This was hers. He was unequivocally hers. And he could not stop thinking about what she could've possibly been fantasizing about every time she was alone with herself.

He was losing his head a bit, and he took her hands from around his neck and pinned them above her head, unsure as to why. Compulsion, really, his body moving almost of its own accord. But it was Hal who held power over him, her words and figure goading him to action. But heavens, he didn't mind it one bit.

"What sort of things did you think about when you were alone?"

His gaze drifted down, taking her in slowly. The way she looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, face flushed and mouth parted. Chest heaving with anticipation.

"Do you dare me to be so presumptuous?" she teased, her own voice having dropped in octave in her lust.

"Absolutely."

She bit down on her lip a bit, and he could see how she steadied her nerves. This, he knew, was making her feel vulnerable. He leaned forward and kissed her again, letting her hands go so that he could cup her cheek. The other hand snaked down to her thigh, and he broke the kiss to ask, "Did I touch you?"

It took her a moment to catch her breath. "Y-yes."

He ran his lips up her jaw, whispering in her ear, "Tell me how."

She turned her head to look at him, eyes wide as though trying to gauge if he was serious or not. And he absolutely was. He knew his imagination couldn't do him justice. They locked eyes, silent. Hers were shining, unwavering. At first, he thought she was suddenly doubting herself. And he feared that perhaps they were going too far.

"You would lift up my skirt," she finally said, her voice a nervous and eager whisper. "Sometimes slowly, like you were teasing me. Sometimes quickly, like you could not wait any longer."

He watched her for a moment, and he could tell how hot her face was. Panting like a beast in heat through his nose, he slowly began to raise the hem of her dress, letting the material collect around her waist. He couldn't take his eyes off her, captivated by the gravity of the action. He moved slowly, and he was unsure as to if it was because he was nervous or if he was teasing her. Perhaps both. But Hal never looked away either, although he could tell how eager she was becoming.

"And then you'd cup my knee, like you always do, to spread my legs." This time, he reached down and did just that, stepping between her legs. And Hal reached out and gripped his tunic, the small gesture throwing her a bit. He could tell she was wanton. Could practically smell it on her.

"And then what?"

"Your hands…your hands would always touch me first."

His fingers drifted close, brushing the inside of her thigh lazily. "Like this?"

She shook her head. "Closer."

Murtagh continued to run his fingers along her skin, patient, sensing her nervousness. He knew this was as new for her as it was him, and it was a bold next step in their relationship. Their eyes met and he leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet. He felt her hand between their bodies and his kiss became more aggressive, eager. He ran his tongue across her plump, lower lip and she opened her mouth for him, his tongue seeking and finding hers.

Her hand found his and guided him precisely where she wanted him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the contact, his knees almost buckling with how slick she was. Hal cried out enthusiastically at his touch and he felt how her entire body shuddered. "Dammit, Hal," he gasped.

"For you," she panted, her voice shaking. "Only for you."

Gods above and below. Those simple words just robbed him of his remaining sanity. She told him where to put his fingers, instructing him on how to touch her, when to touch her. His ears burned pleasantly as he tried not to faint at the sound of her pleasure, at the sight of her body responding to his touch. How many nights and early mornings had she made these same sounds into her pillow while thinking of him? The idea of what he could be doing to Hal in her fantasies made him ache to make dreams into reality. When he pushed a finger inside her, Hal swore so violently that he would've moved his hand, fearing he'd hurt her, had she not been holding onto it already, refusing to let him pull away. Even in his wildest dreams, he never could have imagined how warm she would feel, or how achingly soft. She pulled his head down to kiss her neck, and he easily found the spot he knew she liked.

"Murtagh," she gasped, her hips moving in sync with his hand. Her body shuddered and she threw her head back and groaned again, her nails pressing into his back. "Murtagh."

In that moment, he would've done anything she told him to. No questions asked. He succumbed to her completely, wanting to beg her to say his name like that again. And he suddenly remembered that she had told him his hands always touched her _first._ And he groaned with understanding and want of his own. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, propping her foot up on his thigh. Before she could react, he removed his hand and replaced it with his mouth.

Nothing prepared him for the taste of her, and he shuddered as something lightly rippled through him like a shock to his system. Hal's knees buckled, and her fingers reflexively tangled themselves in his hair for support. And he got his wish sooner than expected, his name falling from her lips with desperation and eagerness. Her entire body was shaking as his tongue carefully explored the soft, wet folds between her legs. Hal's cries of encouragement emboldened him, and his mouth became more aggressive.

She suddenly became tight and let out a surprised cry as she rocked her hips into his mouth. He didn't stop, looking up at her through his lashes. She was a true sight to behold, her body taut with the pressure of her release. Her back arched off the wall, her skin hot as the fingers in his hair briefly and suddenly tightened their hold, then, moments later, slipped from his hair. Only then did he move away, confident she was done.

She said his name again, weakly, her eyes still closed as she struggled to catch her breath. He rose to his feet, surprised that he knew exactly what she wanted. He kissed her, their lips slow and passionate. They were both shivering in surprise and delight, and Hal began to laugh, eyes shining and shy, grateful. And he felt equally lightheaded, grinning back at her.

"As good as you imagined it?" he asked. Under different circumstances, he might have had the decency to be humble. But nothing about her reaction led him to believe otherwise, and her eyes were still half closed, her expression almost dream-like as she said, "Better. Definitely better."

He could tell her legs were weak, and he helped her to his bed and laid her down gently. They lay there, lips locked for a little while longer. Her hands untucked his tunic so that they may rest on his stomach, and he sighed at her touch. Then she rolled them over with a surprising amount of energy and smiled against his lips. "I want to touch you now."

Too flustered with desire to respond, Murtagh swallowed thickly and nodded. Her lips were teasing and gentle as they explored his neck and chest, her hands playful, her tongue suggestive. She undid the buttons of his tunic, one-by-one, as she drifted lower and lower down his body.

"Now," he began, his voice catching a bit, "how come you can undress me but I did not get to undress you?"

"Because," she said, shooting him a knowing smirk, "I'm a lady."

His nearly choked on his laugh, distracted when Hal lowered her head to continue what she was doing. He didn't think it was possible to feel vulnerable and exposed, yet safe and desired all at once. His skin burned when she touched him.

"You are awfully quiet, _Shur'tugal_ ," she said, her fingers on his trousers. "Tell me: what do you want?"

There was an ongoing battle in his mind with whether he should answer truthfully. It still felt selfish, asking for something like this even though it was obvious Hal wanted it just as desperately as he did. Her eyes were watching him steadily, and for a moment, he just wanted her to kiss him. But she ran her hand over his crotch and he shuddered at the feel of it. After that, the words came much more easily, and it didn't take him long to tell her what he wanted. And Hal made a low noise as she began to undo his belt, her lips kissing his stomach while she worked.

He felt like he was seeing stars when she took his length in her mouth. She was careful, moving slowly and gently. Though as inexperienced as he, Murtagh was fighting not to push his hips as his eyes rolled. She felt so good. Her mouth felt so welcoming, if not simply overwhelming. He felt her tongue and his stomach rolled and he let out a low sound from the back of his throat. He shuddered again, and opened his eyes just as she looked up at him. The sight was incredibly erotic, and Hal's gaze was bright with such genuine compassion and affection that he came, her name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Her lips were gentle while he tried to catch his breath, kissing him as he softened in her hands. The room felt impossibly warm as she moved to lay beside him. When he felt like he wasn't going to pass out, he rolled over and kissed her, trapping her underneath him. "That was definitely better than I imagined it could be," she groaned, pleased with herself.

He kissed her briefly before pressing his forehead to hers, understanding her need more than ever. "Do I even want to know where you got the idea to do this?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "You have truly never gossiped with the women of this village — especially the older ones — until they are swapping the most profoundly inappropriate stories your innocent ears will have ever heard. Especially when they are instructing a woman in preparation for her wedding night. Fortunately, I learned early on that there are plenty of ways to give and receive pleasure."

"Remind me to send them flowers then."

She elbowed him gently in the stomach. "And what about you? Clearly your depravity knows no bounds."

"If my depravity will get you to say my name the way you did then I will swear before the gods that I am the lowest of the low."

"You're an idiot."

But her smile was so wide, he knew she was only half serious. He leaned forward and kissed her brow. He cradled her cheek in one hand, content to hold her gaze as he brushed his lips against hers. "You are not what I expected, _iet dunei_ " he whispered, once again feeling the weight of his words as he said them.

Hal nervously bit down on her lip, her fingers carefully brushing the length of his arm. Her expression was one of caution, and it seemed ill-fitting considering the moment, until she asked, "Why won't you tell me what that means? You have been using it more and more."

"Have I?"

"Don't be smart, you know you have."

"And you haven't asked Blödhgarm or Invidia?"

She grew embarrassed. "Well…I started to think, perhaps, it was a private matter. I didn't want to involve them."

Murtagh smiled, unsure as to why he didn't want to admit to her the translated meaning of the words. He just laid there, pushing her hair from her face, gazing at her and feeling like a fool and a king. How quickly she had spoiled him for anyone else. How unexpectedly her very presence had taken a hold of him. She was truly not what he had expected to find when he agreed to come to Illium.

Hal, with her sharp tongue and complete lack of propriety when she was emotional, quick to anger and difficult to understand because of the shields she put up around herself. Hal, who had rather smile to hide her own pain to make sure those around her felt safe. Hal, who had shed more tears for him than anyone he had ever known. Hal, who loved so deeply that sometimes she forgot herself. And she would give all of herself to anyone she cared about.

Even him and Thorn.

He blinked at the realization because he knew it to be true the moment he had thought it. The notion slightly frightened him: he did not want any harm to come to her because of or for him. But to know she would do what she could for his happiness, for Thorn's — her promise to stay by his side rang through his head and he felt his chest tighten with emotion. And his heart raced with something beyond lust or friendship. A secret only he knew.

"Murtagh?"

There was a crease between her brows, furrowed in concern as she watched him. So many emotions slammed into him at once and he fought against them, blinking back tears as he smiled at her. A few fell regardless, and she sat up, her concern for him obvious. Warmth filled his chest at the sight and he leaned forward and kissed her, leading her back down. She briefly hesitated, probably unsure if she should kiss him back or inquire into the current state of his wellbeing.

He pressed his hips against hers, feeling her hands on his back. He kissed her until he forgot himself. Her taste, her smell, her touch, the sounds she made, and the warmth in her gaze. Something had changed, and he knew what exactly it was. But rather than dwell on that, he decided that he would rather have another taste. And he broke the kiss and slowly began to lower himself between her legs once more, rewarded by Hal's intoxicating and surprised whines before he even touched her.

Finally, he knew what heaven was like.


	39. Chapter 39: Iet Dunei

**A/N: Slight NSFW/M Content to kick us off :-)**

* * *

If Hal thought her need was bad before, it was incomparable to how she felt now.

Fingers gripping the side of her bed, she had to turn her head to the side to try and attempt to bury her face in her pillow. She exhaled sharply, her eyes rolling as her stomach clenched in delight. Her skirt was warped around her hips, her legs hanging over the side of her bed. Murtagh kneeled before her, his mouth pressed to her center, his lips and tongue slowly working her into a frenzy. His hands held the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs open to grant him access. The act, even though she was very much still fully clothed, made her feel more vulnerable than if she had been naked. But she was floating somewhere between content and ecstasy, her body fluctuating between relaxed and tensed depending on how much pressure Murtagh put on her.

She grinned, snorting as she tried not to laugh when Murtagh tickled the soles of her feet, toying with her. "Stop!" she shrieked, her laugh airy and playful as he increased his efforts, a spasm running up her leg. "Hurry up, before Denu comes back," she reminded him, keeping her voice low, anxious the old man would come home at any time or turn around, having forgotten something.

"He left twenty minutes ago for dinner with Tengene and his family which, as you so quickly informed me before dragging me in here, would take hours." He tickled her sides this time and Hal rolled over his hand with laughter, trying to pin it down. He climbed up on the bed. "So I," he said slowly, kissing up the length of her stomach, "am going," he continued, kissing her chest, "to take," then he kissed her chin, "my time." He kissed her full on the mouth, slow and relaxed.

"You are cruel if you leave me like this," Hal panted, breaking the kiss to glare at him. But already, his hand was stroking the inside of her thighs, teasing her by drifting close to her center, then drifting away. The more they continued the exploration of each other's bodies, the more he seemed to discover all of the ways in which to make Hal tick and sing and shake and moan at the slightest touch, look, or kiss. Moments were stolen when time and privacy permitted, which wasn't often unless they carved the time out for themselves. But they were blissful all the same. And passionate.

"If you continue to hurt my feelings I may be tempted to."

But he ran his thumb gently between her legs and Hal arched her back, groaning at the sensation of his padded finger on her slick folds. He did this for several moments, Hal shuddering deliriously. She grinned at him. "Come now, _Shur'tugal_. Do not leave a woman waiting."

He slipped a finger inside her and Hal arched with delight as his thumb continued to gently press and rub against her. She ground her hips into her cot, moaning his name teasingly, watching the flush rise up from his neck and spill over into his cheeks. But he never tore his eyes away from her face, and she smiled at him affectionately.

He leaned down and kissed her, stretching his body out beside hers so that they were lying together, his hand working her into a calculated state of lust. His kiss was hard and deep, as if his tongue was currently seeking to mimic what his fingers were doing. Hal had to admit that the feeling was rather exciting, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him in closer.

She could feel her body shiver and tighten around his fingers. His movements were damn-near perfect, and after a few more moments, Hal felt her body coil reflexively. She cried out, breaking the kiss to breathe as a shudder rippled through her body. She had to fight to remind herself to let Murtagh see her all the way through, the pressure being released feeling almost too much to bear even though she had been anticipating it. The feeling of falling that she had been so afraid of for so long now became something she constantly craved.

She gave a final shudder and Murtagh's movements began to slow, then stopped altogether. She could feel her heart racing under her top, her breathing labored as if she had just been running. Her skin was flushed as her body began to relax, her toes uncurling and her back settling down on her cot. She could feel Murtagh's breath on her cheek and turned towards him just as his lips captured hers. He hissed against her mouth when her hands went between his legs, gripping his length gently through his trousers.

For Hal, there was something immensely thrilling about pleasuring him. She imagined he got the same excitement when he did it for her. But Hal could bring herself to new heights on her own just thinking about the way his face would redden when she touched him, his eyes shining and anticipatory. His throat would bob as if nervous and eager, as if he were fighting with himself. He would start off tense, as if he didn't want to admit how much pleasure he felt when she touched him. Sometimes he would watch the ceiling, sometimes his eyes would never leave her, predatorial and hungry. That look alone would send chills down her spine.

And then, when she was done teasing and toying with him, she would slowly take his length in her mouth. And all of the tension would immediately leave him. He would make these throaty groans that she felt all the way down to her toes, her name breathless. His hands would push her hair from her face, caress her cheeks with such tenderness and affection that Hal longed to do whatever it took to make sure it felt as good for him as it always did for her.

She worked him over slowly, her hands stroking and massaging what her mouth couldn't reach. She could feel her own arousal building in response to his, fighting not to move her hand to put it between her own legs. It was moments like this she couldn't help but wonder about what it would be like if they both gave in to temptation and actually went all the way, how his length would feel between her legs. Both simultaneously being satisfied by the other, their bodies pressed tightly against each other, feeling the friction against their skin until —

Murtagh threw his head back and swore as he came and Hal smiled in delight, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly. She let him rest for a few moments, her hand slipping under the material of his tunic to gently stroke his stomach. He breathed her name and she smiled, moving towards him. Keeping her hand on his chest, her fingers wanting the warmth of his skin on hers, she tucked herself under his arm. He kissed her slowly, groaning into her mouth as he rolled over, trapping her under his body. It drove her crazy, the weight of him pressing down on her.

As if reading her mind, Murtagh's hand slipped under the material of her skirt one more time. She came quickly, to Murtagh's surprise and delight, and she finally felt her body begin to settle down. At least for a little while.

"We should get cleaned up," Murtagh suggested, pulling away but otherwise making no move to leave her side.

Hal looked at him, her eyes holding his. She ran her other hand through his hair, her smile growing impossibly wider for no reason except him.

"What does _'iet dunei'_ mean?" she asked him.

"I told you, I'm not telling," he said flatly, lying down beside her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Sweetheart?"

"No."

"Dear?"

"I think you would hit me if I called you 'dear,'" he challenged.

"Right you are." She thought carefully. "Little troublemaker."

"Now that would be highly appropriate," he laughed. "But no."

"If I do guess it, will you actually tell me if I'm right or not?"

"Perhaps."

She looked at him suspiciously before settling back on her cot once more. Staring up at the ceiling in concentration, she tried to run through the possibilities that would make the most sense.

"My…" She felt his grip on her tighten, but ignored it. "Darling."

"Also no."

"Dammit." She turned to face him, her expression stern. "You're not making fun of me, are you?"

"And if I was?"

But she knew he wasn't. She reckoned it had to be some kind of endearment. It was simply the way he said it. His voice was always soft, his gaze breathtaking. He only ever whispered it to her, slipping it in randomly in the most benign conversations, or when he thought she couldn't hear, like when he kissed her cheek when he slipped out of her bed in the morning before they were caught.

"Why use it if you won't tell me what it means?" she pouted.

"Because it is fitting. And I also like hearing your guesses."

"Goddess divine?" He laughed and she grinned at the sound. "You said it was fitting. I will no longer accept the term if it means anything less than 'goddess divine.'"

"Of course you won't," he teased, leaning forward and kissing her once, twice, three times before he sat up. "Come on, I'll run you a bath."

By the time Denu returned, Hal and Murtagh had washed away any evidence of their time together. Smelling once more of her usual lavender and chamomile, Hal had situated herself between Murtagh's legs on the floor of his room, her back to his chest as she read to him from one of her books. They kept the door open so Denu would not get suspicious, but she felt very little inclination to move when she heard the front door open. Although it was probably closer than they should have been, she doubted Denu would suspect much considering she had, for a while now, been a tad bit more affectionate with Murtagh.

"Did I miss the story?" Denu asked, strolling into the room with a hesitant smile, as if he feared he was intruding.

Hal grinned. "Perfect timing, old man. We're only just getting to your favorite part. Come. Sit."

Denu sat on the bench against the wall, and Hal moved so that she could rest her head against his legs, her body still situated in the rider's lap. She took Denu's hand in hers, kissing the wrinkled skin lovingly and holding on to it tightly as she continued reading. Tears of happiness began to fill her eyes and fall down her cheeks, but her voice remained steady. But she felt Denu's hand tighten over hers, and Murtagh's hands tighten around her waist, both knowing. Even though neither could see her face, they knew. And as she continued reading, her heart felt so full she thought it might burst from her chest.

…

Murtagh gently pulled Hal's bedroom door closed, taking one final, longing look at her sleeping figure before shutting it behind him. Behind him, Denu was shaking his head with an amused smile. "She always falls asleep at the good part."

"At least you've heard the story before. I suppose now I will never know how it ends."

Both men were grinning.

"She hasn't read aloud in quite some time. Used to do it a lot when she was younger, since I could not read the text myself."

"Well I'm glad you came home when you did. I think she was even happier with you there."

Denu gave him a curious look. "May you and I talk in private for moment, Murtagh?"

Murtagh's eyes went wide at the seriousness in Denu's tone, but he kept his voice neutral. "Of course. What about?"

Murtagh followed the old man in his room, a place Murtagh did not frequent as often. It was rather barren compared to Hal's, which was littered with her dozens of sketchbooks, regular books, unfinished arrowheads and her clothes, all neatly stacked but she had a lot of items. Denu's was much simpler, his clothes carefully folded, a new set that Hal had already picked out for him sitting out on a small chest made of wood at the foot of his bed.

Denu sat down on the edge of his cot and gestured for Murtagh to do the same. Heart pounding in his chest, he went through flimsy excuse after flimsy excuse to try and explain away any suspicions Denu may have about he and Hal. He didn't want Hal to get into any trouble. Although they had not consummated anything, Murtagh doubted what they had been doing would be any more positively received.

"I do not mean to pry," the old man began, "but I could not help but notice that you seem rather anxious as of late."

Murtagh blinked in surprise. "Have I?"

Denu chuckled with amusement. "You have. I can hear it in your voice — as though something heavy is weighing on you. I know Hal sometimes gets irritated when I read her emotions without giving her a moment to process them. But you have sounded like this since the day of your welcoming party. Did something about that night bother you? Was it too much?"

"No, not at all," Murtagh said quickly. "No, everything about that night was perfect." He swallowed, feelings of that night returning and making his stomach flip anxiously.

Denu's hand reached out carefully, placing Murtagh before finding his shoulder and gripping it tightly. "You know I think of you as my son, don't you?"

Murtagh smiled, cheeks burning with humble gratitude. "I know."

Denu beamed. "Then you know that, just like Halen, you are welcome to talk with me about whatever is bothering you. I do not want anyone I care about feeling as though they can't talk to me or that they must go through something on their own."

Murtagh looked at the man, debating how much to reveal to him. He had more or less come to terms with what made him so uneasy. Thorn had tried to help him sort through his feelings but, lacking in experience, could only offer so much insight before feeling rather lost himself.

He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees as he glanced down at the ground, trying to find the words to say, and his voice to speak. He swallowed nervously.

"Take your time," Denu offered kindly.

Murtagh nodded, even though the man couldn't see. His palms were sweaty and he rubbed them on his trousers.

He took a slow breath, inhaling through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

"I'm —" Dammit. He couldn't say it. He immediately got choked up, his eyes brimming with tears. "Denu, I'm…"

The words got stuck in his throat again. He could not tell Denu, just as he could not tell Hal, but he could show him. He felt ridiculous and cowardly, but his mind was still processing the truth of his emotions. Sniffing, he took the old man's hands in one of his, gripping it firmly while the other went to the man's head. Gently touching Denu's mind, he released just some of what he was feeling. He could hear the man gasp quietly, understanding and surprise washing over him. Murtagh realized, as he shared some of his memories with Denu, that the man was perhaps truly seeing for the first time, his village and Hal.

He soon pulled away, not wanting to overwhelm the man and realizing the mere act of presenting him with such imagery had perhaps been too much.

"I'm so sorry," Murtagh stumbled. "I shouldn't have done that without your permission —"

"No," Denu said, his voice cracking. He was crying quietly, but smiling all the same. "I always knew my Halen was beautiful. But to see her as you do, rider. You have perhaps given me the greatest gift of all."

Murtagh vowed to share with Denu more of the sights he had seen, of the island and the villagers. He couldn't believe he'd never thought of it before.

Clearing his throat, Denu wiped at his face and said, "But getting back to you…I'm assuming Halen does not know."

"No. No, she does not."

"And do you plan on telling her the truth?"

Murtagh leaned forward again, clasping his hand tightly together. "I want to, but I don't know how or when. It would only complicate matters."

"Will it?"

"She has so much on her plate already. So much she wants to accomplish. She's focused on giving back to this village and its people. I do not want to make her feel as though I am asking her to choose."

Denu was silent, as if surprised. "Is that what you think will happen?"

"I don't know. I don't — the last time I told someone how I felt, she rejected me."

"And you fear Halen will do the same?" Murtagh didn't respond and Denu sucked in his breath, understanding fully the depths of Murtagh's concern. "You fear she will _accept_ you."

"All I want is for her to be happy," Murtagh whispered, his despair finally consuming him. "And I want it to be _me_ who makes her so. But I don't know how to do that. She has never made me feel inadequate or inferior or less than and yet compared to her, it is all I feel. I want her, but I know I do not deserve her. A man like me does not deserve a woman like her. But I am too selfish to let her go. She brings me peace and she makes me feel like I am worth something. But I fear my past will not allow me to accept her as she deserves to be."

Murtagh's face fell into his hands, feeling as though his soul was being tormented by the demons he longed to rid himself of. While relieved to have told someone, he felt more self-conscious as well.

Denu's grip on his shoulder tightened as Murtagh cried, trying to stop the flow by aggressively rubbing his eyes. He took several shuddering breaths, realizing Denu had moved to rub his back to try and calm him down. When Murtagh had quieted enough, Denu spoke again.

"I wish I could tell you what to do, Murtagh," he began. "Your demons — I cannot pretend to know how to slay them. And I will not risk lying to you or giving you false hopes that you will ever feel that you are rid of them enough to deserve Halen." Murtagh nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the painful truth. "But," Denu continued, "I do know that _that_ fear is the very reason you should tell her how you feel."

Murtagh froze, staring at the man in surprise.

Denu chuckled. "Oh Murtagh. Even the greatest man will likely feel like he does not deserve a woman once he has vowed to make her happy. Women — the very nature of being a woman makes them stronger. How greatly men pale in comparison. We raise them to be wives and mothers, not individuals. And many carry those torches proudly, despite the burdens that come with them. I suspect, that it is one of the reasons Halen herself does not like the idea of marriage. For all of her independence, Halen loves with a deep ferocity that knows no bounds. She will fight any beast or monster to protect those she cares about. I know it scares her now, those feelings, and I believe she shies away from them to avoid the confrontation. And I think she recognizes that to fall in love with someone, to want to marry them, to want to bear his children and raise them, means a life of putting someone else first. Her husband, her children, and then, perhaps, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And when she found that someone, she would do it, no questions asked."

Murtagh was silent at the thought. He could see it. Despite Hal's hesitation to marry, based on what she had told him, Denu's observation also made sense. Hal said if she were to marry, she wanted it to be for love. And already, for those she loved, she had endured more than any person should have to bear. And yet his face softened at the thought of Hal finding someone with which she could be so utterly happy, even if it wasn't him. The thought of how beautiful she would look on her wedding night, or her stomach round with life of her unborn child. He did not know if that was necessarily the future she wanted, but if it was, she deserved it.

And Murtagh could not yet give her those things. But he did not want to let her go and risk someone else realizing she is worthy of it as he did.

"And I suspect that you find yourself confronting similar feelings. For Halen, you realize you would fight any beast or monster so that she does not have to. You would put her needs above your own, and you already do, no questions asked. It is frightening, realizing that there is someone else worth living for. Worth fighting for — and you have no damn idea of whether you are capable of the task to begin with. There will come a time when you may let her down, when she will be upset or angry or disappointed or annoyed. Heaven knows Isa would sometimes be so angry with me she'd go and stay with her parents for a little while to clear her head." Denu smiled sadly. "But I never stopped trying. And that is the key, I believe, to any strong and healthy relationship, after a foundation of respect, trust, and honesty, of course.

"Never stop trying, Murtagh. Never stop trying to be the man you believe Halen deserves. Recognize what you believe to be your shortcomings, and then strive to overcome them, even if it feels impossible. Even when things are perfect, try anyway. For it is only when you feel that you have nothing else to work towards, nothing else to fight for, that your relationship is doomed."

"But how can you say that knowing what I've done?"

"Because I honestly do not think Halen would care for you the way she does if you had led a different life," Denu responded, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "I believe your trials and tribulations, your emotions — your anger and despair and guilt and pain — are what drew her to you in the first place. Her own suffering, actually reflected in someone else. Someone who could understand these feelings. It is because of what you've done and how they made you feel that she even began to open up to you. You know things about her some of us may never know. And that's is all right, because it means she has finally found someone she can properly unburden herself to.

"It is not fair, what either of you have been through. And I'm not saying, under any circumstance, should you both feel as though the sole purpose of your suffering has been for the sake of love. That's not what I mean at all. But I do believe everything happens for a reason. Whether you believe in the heavens or fate, I believe someone puts obstacles in our path and people in our life so that, when we come together and find each other, we can appreciate those moments of happiness much more.

"You say Halen brings you joy and peace. You would not know these feelings if you did not know turmoil and war. Halen would not brim with life as she does, if she did not also know the pain of death. And we as humans would not know love, if we did not also know hate.

"Your feelings about your past are valid. But do not let them dissuade you from your future either. You are full of such compassion and strength and loyalty, and it shows in how you have lived your life thus far. I told you the day of your party, we celebrate the man you have become, not the man you once were. He is the man we love. He is the man we see. But never forget: the man you are today wouldn't be here without the man you were in the past. And you are the man who deserves to tell Halen how he truly feels."

Murtagh thought he might cry again, and Denu rose to his feet, taking his face in his hands and kissing the top of his head. "Listen to your heart, Murtagh," Denu added. "It will know when the time is right."

…

Murtagh woke up to a heavy fist on the front door. The suddenness of it made him jerk with surprise, instinctively reaching for his sword as Hal's cheery, "Just a minute!" responded from the kitchen.

Stumbling from his feet, he quickly washed his face once more. He was anxious her sharp gaze would notice his puffy eyelids from crying and he didn't want to give her any reason to worry. He heard her open the door and greet someone warmly, although he didn't recognize their voice.

He opened the door to his room, squinting as he made out someone from Berjis' village at the door. Hal was reading a letter in her hands, her eyes scanning over the note. Murtagh leaned against the frame, watching her with a mix of emotions, but he felt less anxious than he had as of late. Still nervous, still unsure. But something about Denu's confidence and kind words had put him at ease for the time being.

Speaking of, the old man opened the door to his room just as Hal finished reading her letter, looking at Murtagh with such an excited smile that he felt his heart thump madly at the sight of it. "It's a letter from Berjis," she explained, her voice brimming with eagerness. "He says the turtles are hatching!"

…

"Are you all sure this okay?" Hal asked in a low voice, eyes darting from Murtagh to Thorn to Blödhgarm to Invidia, nervous that the favor she had asked of them all was perhaps too much. Of course, if they decided to pull back now, they would leave a wake of devastated children in their midst.

"Do not fret, Halen," Invidia said with a kind smile. "We are more than happy to lend our assistance."

"I'm actually looking forward to the event," Blödhgarm added. "I think it's delightful that you all take such pride in nature."

Hal took one of their hands in each of hers, squeezing briefly, grateful. As they walked away, giving her and Murtagh a moment of privacy, she turned to him. Not expecting her gaze, he was rather late in getting the heavy expression off his face. "Is this all right with you, Rider? Please be honest."

"Yes, of course. Sorry, I know I've been out of it lately."

She took his hand in hers while they had the privacy, stepping closer. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is fine. Just thinking."

She was unconvinced, and she knew he knew it. But he never pushed her to talk before she was ready, so she would show him the same courtesy. She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, but he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in, deepening the kiss. There was something in his grip that made her dizzy in the best way, but he drew back, his smile gentle. "We should get moving, before we're late."

He turned on his heel then, and Hal swallowed nervously, fearing something was wrong. But she took a deep breath and followed after him, emerging from behind the hut. They had already packed their things for the overnight trip and loaded them into one of the wagons. There were four total, each pulled by two horses. One held provisions and bags, spare clothes and the like. The rest would hold the children old enough to make the trip.

Hal had almost decided to cancel the trip altogether despite it being tradition. She did not want to put the children at risk once they left the confines of the wards. But Murtagh had insisted, and he had managed to convince the elves to help. They would lend their magic to extend the wards to the group as they traveled. Because Hal had already been placed with wards of her own, she would ride ahead as a scout, communicating with the others mentally. Murtagh had insisted on someone going with her, but Hal had outright refused. No matter what happened, those children and the villagers would be everyone's priority. And she made them all swear it in the Ancient Language. She wondered if that was perhaps one of the reasons Murtagh seemed rather nervous.

But everyone was ready, the men carefully armed. Blödhgarm and Invidia would run on either side of the groups, keeping far enough out of site so as not to alert the villagers, although Amon and the rest of Hal's tightknit group would know they were there. Thorn would fly overhead, and Murtagh would remain on horseback bringing up the rear.

As the wagons pulled away, parents waved their kids goodbye, with final reminders and warnings to behave. Hal could not help but smile at the spectacle, but soon went ahead on Nani to make sure there would be no issues.

The forest was quiet, peacefully so rather than eerily. Both Murtagh's hand-and-a-half sword and her bow were strapped to her back as she observed her surroundings, making sure nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She made sure not to travel too far ahead, and every so often would glance up as Thorn's shadow passed overhead, keeping her updated on where the wagons were.

She met riders from Berjis' village more than halfway there who had been scouting on their end, a precaution Hal had sent back to the messenger who had first delivered her friend's letter. She greeted each man by name, thanking them for their help. She felt much better that they were there.

When she arrived in Berjis' village, she went straight to his hut like she always did. Bea was already waiting by her father's side, and shouted in delight when Hal rode up. Swinging her foot over the side, Hal jumped down before Nani had even come to a full stop, dropping to her knees as Bea ran into her arms. Hal feared she would hurt the child, she held on to her so tightly.

"Oh, I've missed you," Hal cooed, smoothing the girl's hair down and kissing her cheek. "Have you been on your absolute best behavior?"

"Yes!"

"No," Berjis said with a rather stern look. Hal looked at Bea who pouted but said nothing on the matter.

Shaking her head, Hal set the girl down and went to hug her friend. "How are you, Berjis?"

"Some days are harder than others, but I'm managing." He pulled back some. "I'm glad you could come. How was your trip?"

"It was fine. Thank you again for sending the group of men to help keep an eye on the wagon. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"I would not wish anything to happen to your people. I was happy to help. Ah, and here they come!"

Hal turned just as Thorn came and landed right in front of her. The wagons were coming out of the woods, and Hal felt her chest loosen at the sight. Some of the adults looked mildly annoyed, and Hal assumed it had something to do with the children who were hungry and loudly complaining. But she would take it. A few, like Layla and Eren, saw her and waved, and Hal waved back.

"How have you been?" Berjis asked as they turned away from the caravan briefly. "I didn't ask."

Hal breathed, looking over her shoulder once before back at Berjis. "Some days are harder than others, but…most have been good."

"And Denu, how is he?"

"Devastated he could not come. He loved the experience of the turtles hatching. But since his back does not respond well to the journey…"

"Ah, that is most unfortunate."

"But he sends his love all the same. Said he is more than happy to host you and your little ones when you're ready."

"He is, as always, too kind."

"I know."

Hal watched him carefully for a moment, wanting to ask but feeling slightly uncomfortable broaching the subject. "Why has Bea not been behaving?"

Berjis' head lowered some. "She is upset that her mother has not yet come home. She is growing restless. She is throwing more tantrums than she normally would."

"Why have you not said anything sooner? I would have come and help if I could."

"I know you would. But you could only do so much, Hal. She wants her mother and I —"

He buried his eyes behind his hand and Hal's chest tightened. She placed a useless hand on his shoulder, wishing she could do more for him. "Berjis, have you been getting much sleep?"

"I sleep when I can."

"Let me take Aiden and Bea for the afternoon. I can only imagine how strong you have been for them these last few weeks. But trust me when I say strength will only take you so far. Weep and scream until you are ragged and horse. Sleep. Wake up. Then come find us at the beach, okay?"

He nodded, and Hal wrapped her arms around his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. His hands gripped her tightly as he buried his face in her neck to hide it. He sniffed, then kept his head down to wipe his eyes before lifting his head once more.

"Thank you, Hal."

"No thanks is needed. Bring me the little one, so we can get going."

With Aiden on one hip and Bea's hand in hers, Hal went to her little band of villagers. The children were eating the lunches packed by their mothers, finally quiet. The adults were lounging about, talking and laughing as they ate their own meals. Murtagh sat with Eli and Cado, and caught Hal's gaze as she walked to the wagon. She gave him a wink and he smiled, winking back before returning to his conversation.

Hal climbed into one of the wagons, Aiden in her lap and Bea close by. The children quickly made room for her. "All right," Hal said loudly, capturing their attention with ease. "Who here wants to hear a story?"

…

As the sun began to set, they relocated to the beach, the people of Berjis' village having already marked with flags of cloth the location of all the nests. The people poured out of their huts, splitting up into groups.

"How many turtles are there?" Bea asked, her hand gripping Hal's tightly.

"Hundreds and hundreds," Hal explained. "That's why we need all the help we can get. Here, no one's claimed this nest yet. We'll make it ours."

Hal got Bea and Aiden situated. The eggs were still partially covered by the sand, but she knew that Berjis' people had been doing this long enough to know where the nests were. They were soon joined by Amon and his eldest children, Eren and Layla, as well as Murtagh, Eli, and Cado. Murtagh kept his distance, his expression apologetic, but Hal only smiled. It was hard for them both to show little affection when in public. Because they were not yet ready for people to know the nature of their relationship, it was the only solution at the moment. Not that she liked it.

But to her surprise, Murtagh seemed to immediately change his mind and walked over to stand beside her. Close enough that their shoulders brushed, the back of their hands touching. And her body hummed, longing for more.

"When we get back to the village tomorrow, can you and I talk in private?"

Hal looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "Should I be concerned?"

He smiled. "I hope not, _iet dunei_."

"Then will you at least answer me this one question honestly?"

"I promise you, Hal, it does not mean 'goddess divine' —"

"No, not about that. Although you're wrong and I will prove it to you." He grinned, and it finally reached his eyes, which helped her relax some. She wanted so badly to take his hand, to brush his hair from his face. To hold him. And the fact that she couldn't while knowing something was bothering him upset her. She turned to face him, stepping as close as acceptable without arousing suspicion, keeping her voice low for privacy. "Are you happy?"

He jerked back slightly, caught off guard by her question. "Of course I am. Have I given you the impression I'm not?"

She bit her lip nervously. She knew just because he may have been having a bad mood in no way meant he was unhappy. Hal had bad moods all the time. But she had not seen him so withdrawn, and so much had happened that she wasn't sure if perhaps she had done something to put him on edge.

"I guess I'm just worried about you, is all. You've been so quiet these last few days. I know I've been…a bit much as of late. I know I've been rather…aggressive with my affections —" she said in a very low voice.

To her stunned surprise, Murtagh threw his head back and laughed. She flushed. She hadn't meant to be funny.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked slowly as Murtagh placed both hands on her shoulders as if bracing himself as he chuckled.

"No, I'm not, I promise I'm not." He squeezed her shoulders lightly. "I just…I wasn't expecting you to articulate it so sweetly."

He had her there.

"Well there are children nearby," she muttered.

He sighed. "I _am_ happy, Hal. These last few months with you have felt like a perfect dream, even if the moments have not necessarily been perfect themselves. As to my mood, I believe that will make more sense when we have time to talk. When I can properly explain."

She inhaled slowly, then exhaled. "All right. I just wanted to make sure."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head affectionately, sending shivers down her spine. She didn't know what it was about the gesture that just made her feel so warm and happy. But she felt slightly better as his hand rested on the back of her neck, keeping her close for the rest of the night.

…

A day.

He'd given himself a day to figure out what exactly he was going to say to Hal. He didn't know if he hated himself for it or not. He didn't want to wait too long. His feelings were consuming him every moment of the day, especially when he was with Hal. Moments like tonight, when she looked so happy and serene, the words felt like they would burst forth from his mouth and that he'd scream them at her with no warning whatsoever.

 _I love you_.

He wanted to tell her properly and had been thinking through ideas with Thorn on how to do so. His first and last confession had been dismal at best. But for Hal, he wanted nothing short of perfection. He thought about taking her to their usual spot, with the spring and the grass and the peace and the quiet and privacy. At first, he had considered the beach, but the thought of making the trip back seemed like more of hassle than she would probably care for.

 _Relax, young one_ , Thorn said gently, nudging Murtagh with his tail. _I have faith that Halen will accept you regardless of where you tell her. She is not so uptight as to worry over something like that._

 _I know_ , Murtagh argued with exasperation. _I know that. But I just…I want to show her as well as tell her. I just want everything to be right._

Thorn made a low sound in the back of his throat, which sounded almost like a purr. Murtagh felt his face turn red as Thorn's barely-contained excitement for him crept over their bond. Thorn nudged Murtagh's cheek with his nose. _I am happy for you, young one. She is a worthy mate._

"Oi, dragon rider and rider's dragon," Hal snapped, and they both whipped their heads around to look at her. She grinned. "You're going to miss it if you keep yapping to each other. Whatever it is, it can wait."

Murtagh doubted that, but he kneeled down beside her. Berjis had not too long joined them, and his children were situated in his lap, Layla in Amon's, everyone's eyes fixated on the sand. Hal reached for his hand without thinking, her fingers wrapping tightly around his in anticipation. And Murtagh happily tightened his fingers around hers in her return. Thorn sat behind them, his neck craning over their heads to watch.

"Look I see one!" Layla shouted, pointing.

Murtagh was holding his breath, watching as a small green head began to poke through the sand. Then another. And another. Their front flippers seemed to flail almost helplessly as they struggled to climb out.

"They're so cute!" Bea squealed.

Murtagh smiled. They were very cute. Hal tugged on his arm and he looked at her just as she leaned forward to whisper, "Look."

He glanced around them. It was like they all had the same thought, as baby turtles across the beach were emerging from the eggs, some nests further along than others. There were hundreds of tiny, little heads, fins, and shells making their way from the sand, climbing over each other as they sought their way out.

Hal reminded the children not to touch the turtles unless necessary, to give them space, as everyone climbed to their feet. The process was slow, yet Murtagh felt mesmerized by it all the same. The villagers had lined part of the beach with torches, but not many so that they did not attract too many predators.

One bird landed on the shore, eyeing the turtles more with confusion than anything. But Layla rushed towards it, shouting, "Go away!" until it flew off. Amon high-fived her when she ran back to the group, grinning proudly.

The villagers began to spread out as the number of turtles seemed to multiply into the thousands. It was almost overwhelming to behold, but Hal and the villagers carried on like this was common. The turtles wandered almost aimlessly, some just sitting there without a clue. But when Murtagh expressed his concern, Hal took his hand once more and assured him that it was quite common. Occasionally a few wandered too far in the wrong direction, and Hal would gingerly pick them up and turn them around, and they'd waddle on like nothing had happened. But sure enough, over the course of the night, the turtles made their way towards the water, the villagers cheering when the first group hit the waves.

"How do we know all the baby turtles got out?" Eren asked, coming to stand beside Hal.

She placed her hand on top of his head and the boy's eyes widened with barely contained excitement at the touch. Murtagh could certainly relate. "There may be a few stragglers. But they eventually find their way home."

"Why do the moms even bury them underground. Why not in the ocean?"

"Because the eggs are kept warm and safe when they're buried in the earth," Hal explained. "That way they can be kept away from predators and direct sunlight while still growing…"

She froze.

"Hal?" Eren asked, tugging on her sleeve.

Hal took his face in her hands and kissed his cheek. Murtagh stared in surprise, noticing how dazed Eren seemed as Hal turned around and grabbed Murtagh's hand. "We need to find Blödhgarm and Invidia. Now."

"Why —?"

But she was pulling him away from the group, the others staring with confusion as Hal led him back up the beach, mindful of the turtles before they reached the woods. They must've been keeping close, because they appeared almost immediately when Hal reached out to them with her mind.

It was only then that Murtagh noticed Hal's hand was shaking in his, but not in a pleasant way. She was afraid.

"Halen, what's wrong?" Invidia asked, her brows furrowing in concern. "Did something happen?"

"I know how the Ra'zac have been getting around the island," she said, wasting no time. Murtagh's eyes widened. "And I think I know how we can find them."


	40. Chapter 40: A Desperate Confession

Hal stared at the gaping hole in the ground that led to the cave, the dark abyss contrasting sharply with how bright and cheery it was outside. She felt sick. The thought of even stepping foot inside made her tremble in fear. The fact that her magic had even made this hole was disbelieving.

"I never thought we'd have to come back to this place," Murtagh mumbled, more under his breath than to her. But Hal sighed in agreement, forlorn. She wanted to believe that they would go in, destroy the Ra'zac, and live happily ever after. But the longer she stared into the eerie blackness of the underground cave, the more she felt nothing but dread awaited her.

Her hands ached.

Invidia and Blödhgarm were down there now, exploring what they could of the cave and checking on Hal's theory about the Ra'zac using tunnels. It would explain why not even Thorn had been able to smell them, allowing them to travel around the island and avoid sunlight. Hal was almost hoping she was wrong, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she had known she was right.

But she'd really, really like to be wrong.

Murtagh came and stood beside her, taking her hand in his and squeezing it tightly. They shared a knowing look, Hal's hesitation obvious. "I will be with you every step of the way," he assured her. "And if you do not want me to, I will not let go of your hand. Okay?"

She nodded, clinging to him even tighter. She was grateful he didn't try to talk her out of it. Didn't try to plant additional and unnecessary seeds of doubt when hers were already in full bloom. But he had always been consistent in maintaining his confidence in her, even when she held none for herself.

Murtagh kissed the back of her hand. He had been largely quiet on the ride up, which had taken practically half the time as it had before since Hal didn't need to worry about tracking anymore. Everything had happened quickly after Hal's revelation. They had returned to their village with their group the following day, but left almost immediately afterwards. Hal felt guilty, providing Denu with only a vague explanation and a promise to explain everything when they returned. But now that she thought about it —

"You wanted to tell me something," she reminded him, only just remembering herself. "Back on the beach, you said you wanted to talk about why you've been so quiet lately."

He inhaled sharply, as if he hadn't forgotten, but hadn't wanted to bring it up. "It's — it can wait." He seemed unsure of himself, which Hal picked up on immediately.

"We have a few moments. You can tell me whatever's bothering you."

"And I will. But just…not now. It wouldn't be right, considering…" His eyes darted over to the cavern and Hal thought she understood. Was it something he feared would upset her focus if he told her beforehand? It was the only thing she could think of, which made her stomach clench.

"Okay, if I'm being honest, you're worrying me a bit, rider —"

He lunged forward and kissed her, his hands cradling her cheeks. Hal sighed, hating how quickly her emotions were temporarily quelled. He deepened the kiss, and Hal gripped the material of his tunic, frightened as to why something in his touch felt different. But she couldn't figure out what it was.

"Halen."

He said her name almost like it pained him. She took his face in her hands, holding his gaze as she studied him carefully, trying to figure out what could be bothering him to this degree. As if seeing her concern, he leaned down and kissed her again, this time with such tenderness that Hal shivered in response. He pressed his forehead to hers, looking for all the world like he was fighting himself on the matter.

She licked her lips nervously. She almost wondered if…

"Halen. My Halen." His gaze found hers once more. "I l —"

"We found it!" Blödhgarm shouted from below. "Murtagh, Halen — it's here!"

Murtagh closed his eyes and Hal could see whatever surge of confidence he had felt to speak had passed. "Murtagh, wait!" she said, grabbing his hand as he moved to walk away. "What aren't you telling me?"

He leaned forward and kissed her again, slow and sweet before pulling away. "No matter what happens, stay by my side. Okay?"

She prepared to argue when Blödhgarm called out again. "We're coming!" Murtagh shouted patiently. He turned back to Hal. "Okay?"

She nodded her head dejectedly. "Okay."

Using the same rope the elves had used to descend into the cave, Murtagh and Hal followed one-by-one, Hal's nerves on edge as she willingly lowered herself into the cavern where she had been tortured. When Hal jumped down onto the rock with the others, she glanced around, observing the water that had filled the space with trepidation. The damage looked even worse from here.

 _I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! PLEASE!_

Hal fought to hide a whimper as the pain in her hands felt magnified by her proximity to the site of her suffering. She could still feel the ground shake as her magic had poured out of her, uncontrolled and dangerous. She turned her back from the others, trying to get her emotions in check when she felt Thorn touch her mind.

 _Be brave, little one. You are even stronger now than you were then. You are no longer a victim, but a warrior. Turn your fear into something the Ra'zac will regret using against you._

Hal looked up at where the dragon was waiting, too large to join them. She blinked back tears as she smiled up at him, his face looking down on her with such beautiful red eyes. _Thank you, Thorn. I think I'll do just that._

 _And please…do not let Murtagh do anything rash._

 _Aye. Will do._

"Are we ready?" Blödhgarm asked, taking in Hal's nervousness but, thankfully, choosing not to comment as she came to stand with the rest of the group.

She nodded stiffly.

"There is a tunnel, just on the other side of the cave," Invidia explained, already soaked. "It's a long swim before the water is low enough to catch your breath, but it should be feasible. Are you both strong swimmers?" she asked, looking at Hal and Murtagh. They nodded. "Then we should get moving. Secure your belongings as best you can, they will get wet."

Hal removed her quiver from her back, tying the arrows together with a piece of twine so that they would not float away, then fastened the excess string to the quiver itself. Hopefully it would be enough. She made sure Murtagh's sword was securely fastened as well, and her bow strapped down tight to her back. She was not as pressed about the dagger in her boot.

They dove in almost all at once, resurfacing and following Invidia to the entrance to the tunnel. They stopped, and Hal turned to Murtagh. "Will Thorn be okay?"

"He will have to be, since he can't come. Although he's not happy about it."

She nodded in understanding, treading water as she looked back at the opening. Murtagh swam to her. "If you're not ready for this, there's no shame in staying behind," he said, finally reaching his limit of how long he could hold his tongue.

Hal swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Who would I be if I let you do this on your own? If I let cowardice rule my life while people I cared about forged ahead without me?" He didn't look convinced, and Hal was sure she didn't sound convincing. "I will be okay," she assured him.

He sighed, but did not argue further, giving her a reassuring look and confident smile. Hal looked to Invidia who gave her a look almost of approval before she took a deep breath and ducked her head under the surface of the dark water. Hal relaxed her lungs, filling them slowly and carefully with air. Then she took one deep breath and followed the elf underwater.

Invidia's blonde hair was perhaps the only light Hal had to follow. As her eyes adjusted, she could just barely make out the tunnel, but as they left the cavern behind, it grew increasingly darker. Hal kept near the walls, reaching out blindly every so often to center herself. She could feel Murtagh touch her leg occasionally, either to make sure he was going the right way or to make sure she was still there, Hal didn't know.

The swim was not nearly as bad as Hal had predicted, although she was grateful to resurface when they did. The water was low enough that she could stand, walking out until they were back on dry land. " _Garjzla_ ," Blödhgarm whispered, and a small orb of light appeared in his hand, lighting the space around them. The ceiling was about twice as tall as Hal, and just as wide, which was bigger than she had anticipated. But otherwise, there was nothing to observe that was unusual about the space, except for the fact that it existed at all.

"Let's dry our things then continue forward," Invidia told them. "There's no telling how far this tunnel goes or what we may run into."

Hal shivered at the thought.

Murtagh helped her dry her clothes and weapons and, when they were ready, took up her hand in his. It was better, walking through the tunnels, since Blödhgarm had the light for them to see. Hal wasn't sure what she would've done if they'd have to walk around in the pitch black. But the fear that they could run into the Ra'zac at any moment did not help calm her nerves either.

They walked endlessly, straining to listen for any sudden movements, looking for any sign that anyone or anything was down here. It didn't break off into other directions, either. It was just the one way in or out. Hal counted their steps in her head to keep track of what direction they were facing as the tunnel twisted and turned. She had an idea, but it didn't make any sense, so she kept it to herself until she was sure.

"There is no sign that this tunnel ends," Murtagh commented, his voice echoing across the rocky walls. "How long should we follow this path before considering an alternate route?"

"Surely it must end somewhere," Blödhgarm said thoughtfully. "It can't possibly go on forever."

Hal stopped moving. "I think it does," she whispered, realizing that her theory was looking more and more like a fact. When everyone stopped, turning to look at her, she continued slowly. "I've been tracking our steps, following every direction and turn we've made. I'm positive we're headed towards the ocean."

"The ocean?" Invidia said, startled. "Why the ocean?"

Hal began to shake, recalling a dream from months before — practically another lifetime at this point. A dream in which she had been running through the ocean, just before a pain in her chest had stopped her from going forward. Just as the water collapsed on top of her to keep her from going back.

Through the ocean.

Headed towards Uden.

"I think we should head back," Hal said quickly, fear gripping her as she remembered her dream. "Now. We need to get back, we need to —"

An explosion rocked the ground beneath them, knocking Hal off her feet and into Murtagh. "What was that?" he cried.

But Hal knew immediately what had happened, feeling like she had been warned and still walked right into the trap. She tightened her grip on Murtagh's hand and yanked him forward, grateful that Invidia and Blödhgarm followed without asking questions. She didn't dare look back. Didn't need to in order to know that the tunnel was collapsing behind them, that they were going to be forced to continue forward.

Right into the belly of the beast.

The sound of rocks falling around them got louder, the ground becoming more unsteady as they ran. Smaller rocks began to rain down on them, and she realized that the tunnel collapse was catching up to them. Hal spotted a clearing up ahead, an end to the tunnel, and pushed forward, Murtagh's hand still tight in hers. But they weren't going to make it. The rocks up ahead were already falling.

Murtagh cried out, his hand slipping from hers as he fell to the ground.

"Hal, no!" Invidia cried.

But Hal had already turned around and did the only thing she could think to do, throwing herself over Murtagh's to shield him, although little good it would do either of them. But before Murtagh could protest and as Hal braced herself for the impact, imagining the wall of water that had collapsed on her in the dream, it suddenly became still.

There was no crushing debris burying them alive, and Hal slowly lifted her head. Murtagh winced, blood dripping in his eyes. He must've been hit on the head. She rose slowly to her feet, helping him to his as her eyes widened in disbelief.

The rocks were suspended in midair. Hal looked to Invidia and Blödhgarm, but they looked equally surprised. And that's when she saw it, a spirit, just up ahead. Hal licked her lips, weighing their options, not that they had many.

"Can you walk?" she asked Murtagh, wiping some of the blood from his brow.

"I'm fine," he said curtly. She rolled her eyes, knowing he was angry with her. Knowing he would berate her later for her recklessness. She would deal with it when the time came.

"Then let's keep moving," Blödhgarm said slowly, his eyes following the spirit with suspicion. They did, ducking around rocks in their path until they reached the clearing, a cavern, smaller in scale than the one they had been in before. There were four tunnels, well three, now that one had completely collapsed.

Murtagh leaned up against the wall, panting, as Invidia helped with his injury. Hal and Blödhgarm both moved closer to the spirit, cautious and curious.

"There is something not quite right about this spirit," Blödhgarm said, speaking slowly. "I can't quite put my finger on it."

Hal blinked. She certainly agreed with him, but there was something drawing her in. She recalled the last time she had gotten this close. She thought of the constant presence she felt watching her. But now she could not help but wonder if the spirit had been watching her for a while now. How else could it have possibly known she would be here? That she would need help?

"It's like it's looking at me," she stated, realizing that it seemed to be true.

"Careful Hal," Murtagh warned.

She ignored him, stepping closer. The spirit didn't disappear, and Hal got within a few inches of it. "It feels…familiar," she continued, talking aloud but to herself, thinking. It was the same feeling she had when it appeared before her in the village. Like it _knew_ her somehow. "This magic…I've felt it before."

Her eyes widened with realization. "Murtagh, do you remember that night, after you rescued me from the Ra'zac and we felt that magic in the air. That stillness."

"Yes." His eyes widened in understanding. "Hal…you're not suggesting —"

"How many of you are there?" Hal asked the spirit.

 _Halen_.

She gasped in surprise. She heard the voice in her head, but this time, it echoed throughout the cavern so that the others could hear as well. Murtagh tried to put himself between Hal and the spirit, but Hal stopped him. "I don't think it means us harm," she told him gently, trying to ease his mind.

"We cannot trust them, Hal. Despite all the help they have offered, they have revealed nothing about themselves," Murtagh scolded.

"He's right," Blödhgarm added. To the spirit, he said, "Please, can you tell us who you are? Why are you aiding us?"

 _Halen._

"Is that your answer?" Murtagh shouted. "What do you want with her?"

 _They are coming._

"Who is coming?" Hal asked. "The Shade?" She swallowed. "The Ra'zac?"

"We need to get out of here," Murtagh hissed, grabbing Hal's hand. "This was a mistake."

Hal couldn't agree more, but it was too late now. Blödhgarm shoved her back, procuring an arrow of his own from his quiver and nocking it. He fired with an ease and expertise that made Hal look sloppy and her eyes widened in fear as he killed a Ra'zac just as it appeared from the tunnel to their left. There was a screech of pain as it died, but it was over quickly. But Hal felt her blood run cold when screams responded in kind, echoing around them, magnifying the noise and making it impossible to guess how many.

"Halen, arm yourself!" Invidia cried, but Hal had already pulled off her bow, nocking an arrow and moving to face the tunnel to the right. Murtagh had unsheathed Zar'roc and move to face the tunnel to the center. Invidia moved to stand beside Hal, and she noticed that although Blödhgarm was now armed, the light he had cast remained in the cavern, drifting lazily above them, providing enough light for them to see.

"Be careful of using magic," Blödhgarm warned. "We do not want to bring the tunnel down on ourselves as well."

 _Turn your fear into something the Ra'zac will regret using against you._

Hal breathed, trying to will the shake in her hands to go away. Or, at least, to lessen. Her archery would truly be useless otherwise.

 _Turn your fear into something the Ra'zac will regret using against you._

Hal forced herself to close her eyes, focusing on the air moving in and out of her lungs. She heard the breaths of her comrades around her. She could hear the rustling of the Ra'zac as they drew near. She thought of home, and what might happen to it should she fail. She thought of her trainings and her lessons.

She thought of her mother, and how her last words to Hal had been to remind her to fight. And as her heartbeat began to even out, as her mind began to find calm and focus, Hal opened her eyes.

The delay between the first Ra'zac and the rest was slight, but when they began to stagger out of the tunnels, Hal lost all train of thought as she tightened her grip on her bow. She moved with a calculated precision, picturing them as she would lovuk, working to keep the panic from her mind. With the size of the tunnels, they could only come out two at a time. It was not as great as one at a time, but a narrow space still meant Hal and the others were not ambushed all at once. A small mercy.

Hal knew her arrows would not last her long, but she used them to take down as many Ra'zac as she could from a distance, taking some small satisfaction in watching their bodies drop. She did not dare break her focus to check on Murtagh, but when she used her last arrow, she took a brief step back, hoping to feel him beside her. But all she got was air. But she thought she could just make out the sounds of his grunts as he fought, and she would have to take solace in that for now.

She yanked the sword off her back and thrusted into the first Ra'zac to reach her, pulling it back out as she dodged another, sweeping her blade across its midsection. At times, she caught herself responding to their attacks like she would an attack for Invidia or Murtagh during her training, calculated and precise. Other times, she fought almost on instinct. Her movements were still intended, but she did not feel as though she were thinking of the steps and then doing them. It was her body moving on its own, fueled by her own desire to simply survive.

 _Turn your fear into something the Ra'zac will regret using against you._

And arm went around her throat from behind, and Hal only had a moment to throw her left arm up, trapping it against her face. But it alleviated some of the pressure from the Ra'zac's arm off her windpipe. She grunted, kicking at another Ra'zac that had come close.

" _You will come with usss_ ," the creature hissed in her ear, it's breath rancid that she felt her vision blacken as a result of the foul stench. But she fought against the compulsion to pass out.

"Like hell I will!"

Another Ra'zac ran towards her and Hal threw her legs out, using its body as leverage since she didn't have a wall to use instead. She used the body to hurl herself over the Ra'zac that had thought it had her trapped. She sneered as her feet hit the ground, impaling the Ra'zac on her sword before it had a chance to grasp what she had done. The second Ra'zac moved towards her as she was pulling her blade back, but a dagger flew and hit it in the temple. She turned as Murtagh ran towards her.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm not hurt," she told him.

She felt movement behind her and spun around, sword raised, and realized it was only Invidia. She glanced around them and Hal realized that they had felled the Ra'zac. Blödhgarm was yanking his own blade out of a Ra'zac's body, and everyone joined him, going through and stabbing the Ra'zac one last time, making sure they were truly dead.

"We need to find a way out of here," Murtagh repeated. "Before more come to join their friends."

"He's right," Invidia said, looking to Blödhgarm. "But if we are not careful, we risk either trapping ourselves underground or between Ra'zac."

Hal wasn't paying attention. The spirit from before had returned, floating just in front of her. It was like it was trying to tell her something. Trying to warn her.

Murtagh gripped her arm, trying to pull her away from the spirit. However, Hal's feet remained planted on the ground, staring at the spirit with a slow understanding of what was about to happen. She directed her thoughts towards it, like she would Thorn or Murtagh, reaching out with hesitation, unsure of what she would find.

 _How many more?_ she asked it.

Silence.

Then.

 _Enough to overwhelm you. Magic will not help you here. You triggered the traps in the cave. Traps only you could set off. They know you are here. They will hunt you down, no matter where you go. They will take you, and only you, alive._

Hal's eyes widened, but then she relaxed her face as Murtagh argued with the elves about which way to get out. _What must I do to ensure my friends survive?_

It paused, and Hal feared it would tell her there was nothing that could be done. At last, the spirit spoke, it's tone remorseful. _We can shield your friends. But you must make a run for it. We will bring the rocks down around them and block them in. Once we know it is safe, we will make sure they get out and that no Ra'zac get to them. But you must separate yourself from them. At this rate, your presence will only spell their doom._

 _And the tunnel I must go through — I assume it leads to Uden._

Silence. But it was more than answer enough. There was a frightening scream and Hal gritted her teeth, hating herself. She had walked everyone into a trap. And their only way out alive meant Hal had to break her promise to Murtagh.

 _No matter what happens, stay by my side._

But if this was the only way, then she would face his wrath any day over his death. Not to mention she promised Thorn that Murtagh wouldn't do anything rash. But he had said nothing about her.

Hal didn't realize she had begun to cry with the weight of what had to be done. And it frightened her. But she should've realized it would come to this eventually. She could not run any longer. She could not hide behind wards or shields. She could not hide behind Murtagh. She could not fight and she could not flee. If she wasn't so scared, so angry, she would admit what a brilliant trap it was. Perhaps, if she had never come — but no, the others then would never have made it out. It was meant to end like this.

"Hal, what's wrong, you're scaring me."

She turned to find Murtagh, Invidia, and Blödhgarm watching her carefully. Staring at her tear-stained face with confusion. She knew she could not say anything. Too much time would give them opportunity to stop her. Especially Murtagh.

Murtagh.

There was another scream, closer. Invidia and Blödhgarm raised their weapons, glancing from Hal to the tunnels with trepidation. But Murtagh did not take his eyes off her or even acknowledge that he'd heard the Ra'zac.

She looked at him, hear heart swelling with so much emotion she thought she would burst. _There is not much time left_ , the spirit said, touching her mind. _You must hurry. As soon as you give us the signal, we will trap them inside._

Hal swallowed, giving him a smile to ease his nerves. She went to him and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him down for a sweet kiss, uncaring that the elves would see. Her tears ran faster, her heart racing in fear. She pulled away. "I've been lying to you," she whispered, sniffing, "about how I felt. I think I've known — I think I've known for a while now." She smiled through her tears. "I love you, Murtagh Morzansson. And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you when I should have."

His eyes were wide, full of surprise and disbelief. But she only had a second to register it as she spun on her heels and ran. She kept straight, assuming this tunnel would lead to the ocean, to Uden, and decided that fate would take her there eventually. She might as well save it the time and energy.

Invidia shouted to her just as the rocks came tumbling down, rocking the cave and nearly knocking Hal off her feet. She dared look over her shoulder, but the way back was already blocked. No way out, no changing her mind now.

She screamed, letting out all of her pent-up emotions. Her hatred, her fear, her anger. She did not want this. Did not want to see what lay on the other side of this tunnel. But she was also tired of running. Tired of not knowing.

And she cried. Mainly for herself, but also for Denu, whom she would leave behind. Her village. Her people. But, perhaps, most painfully, she cried for the man to whom she had finally been able to give her heart, only to leave him behind to fend on his own.

…

Hal walked for miles. She was pretty sure she was under the ocean now, the walls damp, the ground muddier. Her legs were heavy, her soul depleted of any fight or energy from simply walking. She knew she should've passed out from lack of proper air, but she had a feeling that the spirit had something to do with how cognizant she was.

 _Who are you?_ Hal asked for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, it did not answer. _How long have you been on Illium?_

Nothing.

 _How powerful are you?_

 _Why are you helping me?_

 _What awaits me at the other end of this tunnel?_

 _Am I going to die?_

It continued to ignore her, but it never left her side. Hal didn't know whether to be comforted or annoyed. She had expected to run into more Ra'zac, but she supposed that, because there was only one way out, there was no point in having Ra'zac here now. And since this was the tunnel they wanted her walking…

She was weary on her feet, so she tried to think happier thoughts. She imagined what would have happened if she had confessed to Murtagh under different circumstances. Imagined how he might reciprocate. Back before they had entered the tunnel, she had thought, had hoped, it had been what he was trying to tell her. Tears welled in her eyes, her emotions becoming unbearable. No wonder he hadn't said it, if so. If he had, she would have likely been too out of it enter the cavern, too happy. What would have happened then, if they had all waited? Would she have at least have had a few moments, a few hours, a few days of bliss before her world came crashing down once more?

In a moment of weakness, she dropped to her knees and wailed, hugging herself tightly and cursing the world. All she wanted was peace. And it was cruel to realize that the disruption in her life had brought her the first person she had ever felt such peace with, only to take him away from her. Denu had always told her he had rather lost Isa than have never known her at all. But did it count when it was a few months versus a life-lasting marriage? Would it hurt any less for Hal, if she had never known this kind of heartbreak?

But she hadn't been happy before. Not fully, anyway. There was a peace of mind that came to her when she was with Murtagh. Falling for him, perhaps, had been a result of that. But he had given her what no one else had been able to. And now she feared never having it again. Never seeing him again. And that broke her heart.

She did not know how long she kneeled there, sobbing and wailing for all she had lost. More time. She just wished she had more time. More time to revel in what it felt like to be in love. To wonder if he loved her in return. Wonder what would happen if he did. To divert all of her attention to him rather than splitting it between trainings and the Ra'zac. She wanted to love him during a time of peace, not a time of upheaval.

She couldn't catch her breath, growing dizzy as she struggled to regain her composure. It was soul-crushing, how alone she felt. She didn't want to keep going. She knew she couldn't go back. Perhaps she would die here in this tunnel, pitiful and alone.

Hal felt her chest begin to loosen, her gasps fading into slow, even breaths. She looked up in surprise, the spirit having moved closer. So close, in fact, that Hal had to squint from the light emanating from it.

 _Not alone. Never alone._

And Hal gasped as the tunnel became alight with spirits. Dozens, then hundreds. They filled the space, all giving off a warm glow that gave her a strange sense of peace she knew she should not feel. Hal rose slowly to her feet, taking in the wonderment, the breathtaking beauty of just how many existed. She knew then that she had been right. The magic she had felt that night, standing beside Murtagh, had belonged, not to the Shade, but to these spirts.

She couldn't explain it. How suddenly relieved she was. How safe and comforted she felt. These emotions that were stirring within her. This feeling of…love. She felt a fresh wave of tears. "Who are you?"

Of course, they still didn't answer.

But Hal accepted it, eventually continuing forward with trepidation and newfound strength. This time, none of the spirits disappeared. They stayed with her, lighting a path so bright that Hal thought that, perhaps, it was okay to feel a sense of hope instead of doom.

She clenched her hands tightly at her side. She would see them again. She would see her village again. She would see Murtagh and Thorn again. She would see them all.

She had to.

…

Murtagh had never felt such fury before. An indignant rage fueled him as he hurled rocks, magic, and swears at the barricade that separated him from Hal. And make no mistake, most of his fury was directed at Hal. And when he found her...

He let out a scream, half rage, half anguish, as he began digging at the rocks. They were tightly packed, and the collapse ran deep. To move one rock, another dozen fell in its place. But he didn't care. Didn't care if he brought the entire damn cave down on them. Didn't care if there were Ra'zac waiting on the other side. No, that was a lie. He did care. Because he was going to scream himself hoarse at Hal when he found her, and he couldn't do that if he was dead.

His fingernails began to crack and bleed as he clawed at the stones. Yes, he would use his rage. Rage, he knew. He would find Hal, kill the spirits, kill the Shade, and then he would lay into Hal for her actions. He would never forgive her for this. Never. How dare she? How fucking _dare_ she?

He screamed her name, tears burning his eyes and blurring his vision. He was so damn angry. And he would focus on his anger, his rage. Because he could not, dared not, think of the gripping panic for what he had just lost. If he did…

A hand gripped his shoulder and he spun around, yanking his arm away from Blödhgarm who looked at him with a stony expression. "Murtagh."

The rider blinked at him like he didn't even register he was there. Then he growled, "Are you just going to stand there useless or are you going to help me move these rocks?"

"Murtagh," he repeated, his tone firm but gentle.

"If you're not going to help then leave me alone." He turned back and began digging out the rocks again. He dropped to his knees, trying to act like he meant to dig from the bottom when, truthfully, his legs would not support him anymore. He couldn't stand that look in Blödhgarm eyes. One of pity.

"You've already exhausted yourself," Invidia stated unsympathetically. "Even if we were to rescue Hal, you would be in no condition to do so now."

Murtagh jumped to his feet, itching to hit the woman for her mouth. Blödhgarm gripped him tightly, stopping him. "That is enough, both of you. Invidia, now is not the time to antagonize him. Murtagh, check your emotions. We _will_ bring her back."

But those words did not make him feel better. Instead, they broke him, and he let out a mangled sob of pain, dropping back to the ground as a torrent of emotions swept over him.

 _I love you, Murtagh Morzansson_.

He replayed her words over and over and over again in his head, almost wishing they weren't real. Words he had never heard in his life. Had come to expect to never hear at all. Hadn't even been strong enough to say himself. And to hear them uttered as a goodbye devastated him. It broke some small, fragile piece of his heart that he had been trying to ignore. A piece of him that had never truly accepted that he was the kind of man who would love or be loved. That something so good and pure was even possible for someone as tainted as he.

He roared in fury, getting back to his feet and continuing to claw at the heavy stones that stood in his way. He would get her back. He _would_ get her back. He had to. There were many things in this life he had willingly sacrificed.

Hal would not be one of them.

…

Hal felt like she was falling asleep as she walked. Her eyes were heavy, her head drooping as the tunnel stretched on. She couldn't recall how many miles were between Illium and Uden, but she knew it would take almost a day to traverse by boat.

She was weary and hungry, dehydrated and scared. As beautiful as the illumination of the spirits were, it did little to lift her spirits now. More than anything, she just wanted the tunnel to end.

After a while, the only thing that kept her going were thoughts of Murtagh. How desperate she was to get back to him. He would be furious with her, of that she had no doubt. But she wanted his anger, his grief, his joy, his boredom, his excitement. She wanted all of those things. And she did not want to die before she got a chance to have them. If he would have her, of course.

Many long and dreary hours passed before Hal began to feel a gust of air on her face. It took her a moment to realize what it was, and dread filled her as she slowed to a stop. Here she was, at the end of the tunnel. What awaited her on the other side was still to be determined, but she had some inkling. A Shade with unheard motivations, after her magic more than likely. But she would have to be cautious, and she would have to be smart.

There was another vast cavern, this one with only one tunnel. One way out. Hal breathed. In through her nose, out through her mouth. She stepped forward, walking until the tunnel began to slope upwards. Higher and higher she climbed, never having realized how far underground she was, despite knowing she was underwater as well.

Although it was dusk, the fading light still irritated her eyes. She was sure the only reason they weren't more bothered was because of the glow from the spirits that had lit her path. Hal braced her forearms on the ground, pulling herself up and out of the ground, like a body being reborn from the earth.

She rolled onto her back, her legs still in the tunnel, sucking in fresh air, relieved to get off her feet, which she could no longer feel. She wanted to collapse here. Sleep here. But the prickling sensation of being watched made her roll over, examining her surroundings with trepidation.

Only then did she realize the spirits were gone. An indignant rage swelled up within her at being so suddenly abandoned. They had said she was never alone. Was that a lie?

 _Halen._

Her shoulders slumped. So they were allowed to be invisible but she was not? This all just felt like some sort of sick game. Maybe it was. And Hal was tired of it. She wanted a semblance of her life back. She wanted this all to just be over.

She heard light footsteps and grew tense, rising wearily to her feet and reaching for the sword at her back. Her chest was tight as she began to tremble, wishing desperately for the feel of Murtagh's hand in hers. Especially when a Ra'zac stepped out from the growing shadows.

However, it seemed different from the others. Less volatile, if such a thing were possible. It took one deep pull of air, as if confirming Hal was who it thought she was.

" _Thisss way_ ," it hissed, leaving no room for arguments. " _Massster is waiting._ "

Hal released her sword. Although she was tempted to pull it free, she had a feeling it would be taken from her. She wanted to keep it on her as long as possible, until she truly needed it. The walk was a short one, and Hal didn't know if she was grateful or not that the inevitable came sooner rather than later. She glanced around her, trying to recall where she was from her memories but finding nothing familiar in where she stood. That was probably for the best.

The land around her was dead. No trees, no animals, not even insects, existed in the area within a few feet of her. It was eerie, what had been done, as Hal was sure no such place had existed on Uden before. It was as if a recent fire had caused such devastation. But nothing around her showed signs of burning. And the stench of raw eggs had her gagging as it burned her eyes, clinging to her tongue and throat. Otherwise, there was nothing to show that this land was habitable.

There was simply the dead, blackened earth under her feet.

As Hal walked forward, the wind seemed to increase, making it harder to breath. Then, she spotted a figure up ahead and she began to grow ill. The Ra'zac pushed her from behind to continue walking, so she did. Trembling, she began to realize that the incline in the tunnel had not simply gotten her aboveground. She had hiked one of the larger hills on the island too. The view would have been breathtaking if not for the company as Hal realized she was staring down at part of the island. Thick, green trees filled the land below, and the setting sun added a strange yet beautiful look. Suddenly, she realized she _did_ know where she was, and she inhaled sharply in surprise. She used to climb this hill all the time with her sister.

The figure, the Shade, had its back to her as Hal approached. It was smaller than Hal would've imagined, perhaps a head shorter than Hal and a narrower frame. The tight curls of its flaming red hair blew in the winds as Hal came to a stop. She didn't speak, for words escaped her. So, she waited.

"So, you are the woman who has been evading me these last several months," said the Shade, speaking at last. Its voice was definitely female, high-pitched with a harsh command to it. Yet there was something soft there as well, young, which Hal had not quite expected. She thought of when she had touched the Shade's mind, recalling the one, scared spirit amongst the others. Could that be it? Could she potentially appeal to it for mercy?

The Shade finally turned around and Hal cowardly took a step back. Eragon and Murtagh had warned her of what it would look like, but seeing something so close to human and yet so far from it as well was startling. The skin was pale, devoid of all color in its blush-less cheeks. The eyes were the worst part, blood red and cold. Evil lurked in those eyes, and Hal knew there would be no mercy found here. She fought to keep from shaking, but was slowly failing.

She couldn't loosen her tongue enough to speak, her fear all-consuming. The Shade drew closer, even more intimidating in her black leather, which should've been unbearable in the island heat. "That was very brave, sacrificing yourself like that so the others in your party may live. Although I'm sure you had…help."

Its tone was biting and annoyed. The Shade knew of the spirits too? Hal wondered if it also knew who they were, but she dared not ask.

"But it is no matter," the Shade continued, as if it couldn't be bothered with the specifics. "You are here, which is more important."

The Shade moved forward and Hal took another step back. She forgot, however, about the Ra'zac, and the creature kicked the back of her legs, her knees buckling and forcing her to the ground as the Shade grew close.

"Who are you?" The Shade asked, observing Hal curiously. "I feel as though I should know you. Your face is…familiar to me."

"I think I would remember meeting you," Hal said shakily.

The Shade threw her head back and laughed. Hal really wished she wouldn't laugh. "You are mistaken if you think I have always had this face." The Shade kneeled down beside her and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Hal's ear. Hal flinched, but didn't move. "I once had skin like yours. Beautiful and brown. But monsters have no need for beauty."

The Shade rose to its feet. "Tell me your name. Your full name."

Hal thought it curious she asked for Hal's full name, and not her true name, something Blödhgarm had taught her about, although she had yet to learn it. But either way, she was loathed to part with it.

Sensing her hesitation, the Shade commented, "Speak quickly, or I will let my pet have its way with you until you find your tongue."

"Halen Zarasdaughter," Hal blurted as the Ra'zac stepped towards her. Shame pooled her cheeks, her hands aching as she clenched it tightly.

The Shade spun around. Her face was twisted in fury as it stalked towards Hal. Without warning, it backhanded her so hard that she fell to the ground, crying out. Her eye twitched in pain and Hal was sure she was already bruising. The hit was heavier than she had expected for someone who looked so small. A testament that a Shade's strength and its appearance did not need to correlate in the slightest. Hal was just lucky that the ring the Shade wore, the only piece of jewelry on their persons, had a flat top and not a jewel. Hal could only imagine the scar it would have left across her face otherwise.

The Shade yanked Hal to her feet by her hair and she cried out, trying to lessen the Shade's grip on her. "You _lie_ ," the Shade hissed.

"Why would I lie about my name?" Hal spat. "You asked me my name and I told you."

Something flashed in the Shade's eyes: shock and disbelief. Surprisingly human reactions that Hal hadn't expected. The Shade let her go and Hal stumbled back, wincing but grateful to have been released. Hal watched it carefully as it processed the information, moving from surprise to delight, it's eyes returning to their usually cold look.

"I never would have guessed," the Shade hissed, talking to itself. "Oh, but it explains so much." Its red eyes found Hal. "It had to be you. Yes, I can see it now. No wonder those spirits were so protective of you. Of one of their own. But the odds that it would be _you_ …"

Hal stood there, blinking in confusion. She swallowed nervously. "Who are they?"

The Shade grinned, delighted Hal did not know. "They, are the very reason you and I are here. They are the reason we exist." The Shade stepped forward. She took Hal's face in her hands, but the gesture held no warmth. "And it is with them, that I will make you into something like me."


	41. Chapter 41: A Mother's Love

**A/N: So, it's about this time that I decided to use (if I may steal Hal's words) a bit of "creative improvisation" with the groundwork Paolini laid regarding magic. Of course, none of this is canon. But there were things that were left open and so I decided to use that grey space (*cough* foreshadowing pun intended) in the story. Hope you enjoy. And as always, thank you for reading!**

* * *

Murtagh awoke with a start. His breathing felt labored, weak. He barely registered the tears on his cheeks from a dream he would rather forget. Invidia watched him carefully but looked away as if she couldn't even be bothered. Murtagh gritted his teeth, feeling more clear-headed than he had before.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A couple of hours, maybe more," she said in a clipped tone. "Do you think you are ready to approach this situation with a more level head?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Good, because the spirit has returned and is offering a way out. Blödhgarm is talking with it now."

Murtagh blinked and spun around. The blue elf was, indeed, talking with the spirit, but his lips were not moving. It was exactly as Hal had looked communicating with them.

His chest tightened.

As Blödhgarm turned around, his eyes widened. " _Shur'tugal_ , you are awake. Perfect timing. I think the spirit here has explained what it could about our situation. It has offered to help us escape. There may yet still be time so that we may rescue Hal before it is too late."

Murtagh climbed to his feet, bracing himself against the wall, fighting against the wave of light-headedness that engulfed him. He was such an idiot. Invidia was right. He had wasted energy and breath trying to escape. But regardless, he would rescue Hal. He would bring her home, alive.

"How do we know we can trust it?" Invidia asked, looking pointedly at the spirit with doubt and, Murtagh noticed with surprise, a hint of loathing. "It is because of the spirit that Halen sought to flee in the first place."

"It was doing what it thought best at the time," Blödhgarm explained gently. "Hal knew the risks. She made her choice."

"A choice that should not have been offered to her in the first place!"

Murtagh breathed with realization as the concern etched itself in Invidia's rage. So, she also had come to care for Hal.

"Regardless of what we were facing, we were stronger together," Invidia continued. "As far as I'm concerned, the spirits gave the Shade _exactly_ what it wanted. And if anything happens to that child because of this —"

The spirit suddenly disappeared. Murtagh shouted in disbelief and Blödhgarm stared in surprise. But before anyone could figure out if Invidia had scared it away or if something had happened to it, the cavern changed. It was almost as if they had been transported out of the cave entirely, but Murtagh knew by his labored breathing and lack of wind that where they were standing was merely an image.

And he sucked in his breath in disbelief.

Not an image. A memory.

Murtagh recognized Hal and, at ten-years-old, she was an apt likeness to how Eragon described her. Her curls were wilder, hanging around her round cheeks and wide eyes, so full of life and innocence. It was before the death of her village, that much was obvious. And Murtagh's heart ached at the future that awaited the girl of this memory.

But she was crying.

Her sobs were that of sadness, not fear or regret. Exactly as how Eragon had seen her in his dreams.

Murtagh felt the world tilt in understanding.

"You were the one reaching out to Eragon," Murtagh stated, glancing around wondering where the spirit had gone to. "You sent him those dreams." Invidia and Blödhgarm turned their heads to look at him. Murtagh crept closer to the small version of Hal, looking over her shoulder to see what had upset her so.

A dead baby bird, its wing broken from falling from the nest too soon. So she had never actually been in danger. At least, not in the dream, anyway.

" _Come now, my love, do not cry_ ," a voice said. Murtagh stepped back as a woman appeared in the memory, standing behind Hal and wrapping her arms around the child's body. The woman was unbelievably beautiful. Her dark hair fell down her back, the curls much softer and tame compared to Hal's. Her eyes were a little narrower, the brown irises full of nothing but love and tenderness. But in her, Murtagh could see the same nose and mouth that Hal had now. The same shape of her face. No wonder Hal was as beautiful as she was.

She was a spitting likeness of her mother.

" _But it's dead_ ," Hal whimpered, hiding her face in her hands. " _I can't save it._ "

"Why are you showing us this?" Murtagh asked, and the image faded completely, the darkness of the cave returning.

"Because the spirit wants us to know why we can trust it," Blödhgarm said with a pained and stunned expression. "Although I've never heard of such a thing before —"

"Heard of what?"

" _Shur'tugal_ ," Invidia said calmly, "what else did you see in that memory?"

He shook his head. "There was nothing, just the woods surrounding them. Nothing and no one."

"Then that memory could have only come from one person. And we know it wasn't Halen."

Murtagh shook his head. "That's impossible. Hal said her family was dead. Killed."

"And it would seem," Blödhgarm said slowly, as they all turned to face that spirit, "that her mother found another way to survive."

It made sense. Everything made sense. Why the spirit seemed too fixated on Hal, protecting her endlessly. Yet Murtagh couldn't fathom it. His head started to throb.

"Hal said she saw her mother die," he whispered, trying to rationalize this strange turn of events. "I've never heard of a human becoming a spirit."

"Unless they are not wholly human," Blödhgarm countered, still gazing at the spirit with much more interest than before. "But that is for another time. Spirit, will you get us out of here so that we can rescue Hal."

As if in response, the light from the spirit began to brighten. Murtagh blinked, then threw his hands up to shield his eyes as the light began to burn even brighter and hotter. There was a beam, wide and powerful, emanating magic similar to what he had felt that night after they had rescued Hal. Just like she had said. He wondered if Hal had begun to suspect at all, why the spirit was so keen on helping her.

When the light faded and he was able to look again, he was surprised to see that the spirit had burned a hole right through the ceiling. He could just make out the top, but it was still a long climb. He hadn't even realized how far underground they had been. The only way they would even be able to make it to the top was with the help of —

A familiar and comforting roar sounded up ahead. Apparently, the spirit was one step ahead of them.

Thorn only barely fit. _The spirit found me and explained what happened_ , he began as he landed on the cave floor, forcing Murtagh, Blödhgarm, and Invidia to back up against the wall in order to accommodate him. He hadn't been able to fly, but rather climbed slowly downward, his claws sinking into the stone and rock. But he had still made it. _We must hurry_.

They each climbed up, gripping the strong spikes that stuck out of his neck and pressing themselves as tightly against his body as they could. The climb back out felt like it would take forever, dangling precariously off the side of a dragon. But as they neared the top, Murtagh was relieved to fill his lungs with proper air, although the light from the afternoon sun burned his eyes.

Everyone was trying to catch their breaths and clear their minds. Fresh air had never tasted so sweet.

 _I do not understand one thing though_ , Thorn began, projecting his thoughts into the mind of Murtagh as well as the elves. _If the spirit could trap the Ra'zac and get you out, why separate Halen from us?_

"Because apparently, Halen entering the cave set off some kind of magical trap," Blödhgarm explained. "Magic that would not have allowed her to leave the cave. And by extension, us as well, if she had remained."

Murtagh should have known. Tears burned his eyes as he thought of Hal wandering those tunnels on her own. Of course, she had done it as a sacrifice. Why did Hal do anything except so that others may be kept safe?

 _I love you, Murtagh Morzansson._

She had said it for the same reason he had not wanted to say it before entering the cave. Every time he heard it in his head, he realized that she must've thought she may never see him again. That if she were to die, she'd want him to know.

And it was for that very same reason that he had kept his mouth shut.

He had foolishly believed they would return to the surface together. And he would tell her afterwards, when things felt less stressful. When she was relaxed. They would return to the village and get cleaned up, anxious now that they knew about the Ra'zac, but better with more information and insight. They would make plans to come up with a plan, but for now, they would maintain their wards and get some rest. He would pull her aside, asking if they could talk at their usual spot. They would walk in silence, each nervous for different reasons. But his would be tinged with excitement, expectation even, as he watched her carefully. She would try and smile at him, to show she was not concerned. When they arrived, he would've paced for a bit, stumbled over himself trying to explain to her what he had explained to Denu. How happy these last few months had made him, how much better of a man he had become just by being near her. And he wanted to continue to grow into someone fit to stand by her side. That he even _liked_ the man he was becoming because of her companionship.

But it wasn't enough for him anymore.

Even as they were now, it wasn't enough. He would tell her how he didn't just want to be with her when no one was around. He wanted to hold her hand when they were with their friends. Kiss her in full view of the villagers simply because he wanted to. He wanted to do everything in his power to make her the happiest woman in the world.

Because he loved her.

There, he said it. And he would watch her face, her eyes full of shock at the confession. She would already be crying, he knew. She got sentimental easily, and the sight would warm his heart. And she would burst into tears when he finally said what he had been meaning to say. She would call him an ass for scaring her, but he would smile with joy and relief when she pulled him down for a kiss that would make his head spin. And she would whisper against his lips the same words.

 _I love you, Murtagh Morzansson._

That's how it was supposed to be. Did he not even deserve that much? Was he simply meant to lose Hal too?

 _We have not lost her yet!_ Thorn snapped, pulling him out of fantasy. _We will find her. And we will skin any Ra'zac or Shade that dares stand in our way._

 _But what if we're too late?_ The thought was crippling in his fright.

 _We will not be if we hurry. Halen could only get so far on foot, right? Where would she have gone?_

And Murtagh looked at the spirit, who seemed to be watching him almost carefully. He realized then that there was more at stake here than he realized, but he wasn't quite sure how yet.

 _Back where it all began_ , he said slowly, thinking of what she had told them earlier. _She's going to Uden._

 _Then let's go after her. You still have to tell her how you feel, after all._

Murtagh rose to his feet, fear and determination gripping him. But Thorn's words buried themselves deep within. Yes. He would bring Hal back, because he needed her. Because her village needed her. Because he loved her.

And he would make sure she heard him.

…

"You can't be serious," Invidia hissed as Murtagh finished relaying his plan to them.

"I'm hardly anything but," Murtagh responded coolly. "Hal is on Uden, and the quickest way there is on Thorn. He will fly faster with just me."

"We're talking about a Shade and the Ra'zac, _Shur'tugal_. You can't honestly expect that we would let you go in alone!"

"You have to," he said, maintaining calm. "You know I am right. And with everything going on, it is more pressing than before that you both return to the village as soon as you are able. We cannot take any risks."

"The very nature of your plan is a giant risk! If anything happens to you and Thorn under our protection —"

"You will simply have to have faith that nothing will."

"Blödhgarm, will please talk some sense into him?!"

Murtagh looked at the other elf, who had remained largely silent. Blödhgarm studied him carefully, as though sizing him up. They were wasting time standing around.

"You are not the man you were five years ago, _Shur'tugal_ ," Blödhgarm told him with a faint smile full of sharp teeth. "I noticed that almost the moment I laid eyes on you." He stepped closer, his arms crossed and his smile fading into something serious and no-nonsense. "You know what is at stake if you fail. And regardless of the outcome, you must maintain your sense of self. Above all else, remember who you are and what you are fighting to protect. Many have lost themselves entirely when something they love is taken from them."

Murtagh's jaw tightened. He did not want to think about what would happen if he failed. He did not want to imagine the worse-case scenario. He needed Hal to be alive. But he also knew why Blödhgarm was even telling him this in the first place. The man he would become if he lost Hal is not a man she would be proud of. The elf was trying to prepare him, although Murtagh wished he wouldn't.

"I will try and send word as soon as I am able," he said instead. "If you do not hear from me within three days…"

Blödhgarm nodded while Invidia threw her hands up contempt and exasperation. "Enough of this foolishness," she snapped. "I am coming with you and Blödhgarm will return to the village. You need support, at least someone to take on the Shade if you are preoccupied with Hal. Time is of the essence but I cannot, in good conscious, allow you to go alone."

"You are delaying my efforts by arguing the matter —" Murtagh began.

"Above all else, the world needs the Dragon Riders. You and Thorn need to survive. Let me lend you my magic and my strength."

"Fine!" Murtagh shouted, feeling like he was arguing with Hal. "Fine, you can come. But we do as I say, all right?"

Invidia nodded, immediately complacent as she walked over to Thorn, who was chuckling at Murtagh's irritation.

 _Relax. I can still fly fast with just two. And she is right: it does not hurt to have back-up._

 _Oh, don't start._

Murtagh and Invidia scrambled onto Thorn's back, Invidia sitting behind him, her face set. He looked up at the sun. He wasn't quite sure of the distance between the islands, but it should not take Thorn long with his speed.

Blödhgarm raised a hand in farewell, his smile kind but otherwise unreadable. Murtagh could not tell whether the elf had hope or fear for them. And because of this, he took comfort in the neutral expression. " _Atra du evarínya ono varda, Shur'tugal, un sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!_ "

Thorn took off towards the skies, following behind the spirit who would lead them to Hal.

…

Hal backed away from the Shade slowly, a new kind of fear taking root. "You're mad," she whispered, horrified. "You can't do this. I don't want to be like you."

"I didn't wish for this either," the Shade said casually. "But now that I exist, I realize the benefits of my strength and power. As will you, after you have turned."

"I'd rather die."

The Shade sneered. "You think you can defy me so easily? You think I will not send an army of Ra'zac to that desolate island of yours to lay waste to every living creature on it? You think I will not make you watch as it burns. I know who you are, Halen Zarasdaughter. I would think you had enough blood on your hands after letting your precious Sani village get laid to waste."

Hal froze in shock, tears filling her eyes at the accusation. "How did you —?"

"I was there that day," the Shade hissed, something like pain crossing its features briefly before rage and hatred returned. "I saw the bodies burn and the heads roll, just as you did."

Hal couldn't process what she was hearing. "You escaped?" she breathed.

"Barely. My father gave his life to protect me. That's when my magic first appeared — destroying the soldiers who killed him. I fled, but was eventually found by the person who would become my master, who knew who and what I was. They turned me not five years ago. And I have sought to carry out their mission ever since."

"Were there others?" Hal blurted. The Shade looked at her. "Please, tell me, did others survive? Did you know Daniel Gerosson or Thea Zarasdaughter? Do you know if they made it out?"

The Shade seemed to sway slightly, and it cracked its neck as if trying to maintain a hold on its composure. "It has been a while since I have heard that name."

Hal swallowed. "Please tell me."

The Shade studied her carefully. "Your father was brave. He felled many soldiers trying to protect your sister." Hal felt tears fill her eyes. Please no. "But it was because of his bravery that they saw fit to torture him for his actions. The soldier who ratted you out to his commander gave explicit detail of what was done to his wife before you interfered."

Hal let out a cry of pain.

"He was then beaten until he was hardly recognizable."

She didn't want to hear anymore.

The Shade kneeled down and gripped Hal's chin, forcing her gaze up. Hal felt sick as she looked into the Shade's eyes, wide with madness. And…a single tear rolled down its cheek. "Do not cry. I made sure his death was not in vain. I made sure those soldiers suffered slowly for what they did our father."

Hal stopped crying. She stopped breathing. She just stared, unsure if she had heard correctly.

Then, her rage moved through her quickly, and Hal let out a scream as she felt her magic take over without waiting for her instruction. The Shade was hurled backwards, hitting the ground with deranged laughter. The Ra'zac ran towards Hal and she yanked out the hand-and-a-half sword, dodging its initial attack before striking back with one of her own, digging her blade into its chest.

With the Ra'zac down, Hal turned to the Shade. "You lie!"

The Shade continued to laugh, delighted and mad. "You cannot accept the truth even when you ask for it. But why on earth would I lie to you, my darling sister." And then, to Hal's horror, she repeated everything in the Ancient Language.

"Your use of the language proves nothing," Hal spat. "Except that you believe your own lies."

"Believe me or don't —"

"I don't!"

"— it does not change your fate."

Hal wasn't sure how she knew what to do, but instinct kicked in as she shouted, " _Skölir!_ "

Her shield went up just in time, whatever magic the Shade had thrown at her hitting it with such force that the air around them shifted, strong with the scent of magic. Hal gritted her teeth, throwing out her hands as if her physical strength, combined with her magic, would be enough to make sure the shield held.

"You power is weakened by the Ancient Language!" the Shade screamed over the howling noise of magic and wind in the air. "You cannot hope to best me when all of the knowledge instilled within you in inherently inferior."

Hal refused to listen. She had to focus her energy on her shields. She could not release her magic before the Shade did. She would be annihilated.

Just then, something cackled, like lightening, and Hal and the Shade both went slack with surprise as the magic exploded around them.

…

 _Did you feel that?!_ Thorn asked, projecting into both Invidia and Murtagh's minds.

 _Aye_ , Murtagh said, swallowing thickly. _I recognize part of it as Hal's magic. It is similar to when she was being tortured by the Ra'zac, the feel of it. But this is more controlled. She must be fighting with it._

 _The Shade, no doubt,_ Invidia commented, her grip tightening on Murtagh's hip. _As long as she is fighting…_

Murtagh couldn't agree more.

…

Hal woke up staring at the sky, her ears ringing.

Then she remembered.

She scrambled to her feet, but the Shade was already up and waiting. It grinned. Her arms and legs snapped together as if she were standing at attention, and she fell back to the ground, wincing at the impact. She couldn't move, just like when she had been in the tent in Berjis' village. She tried using magic of her own, but nothing worked.

"Did you know there was magic that predated that of the Ancient Language?" the Shade commented, coming to stand beside Hal, who was continuing to writhe on the ground in hopes of finding a way out of her magical binds. "The magic that flows through Alagaësia itself, gives it life and meaning and purpose. And the only people truly able to tap into this magic were so ancient, that they do not even exist in rumor or legend like the Grey Folk do. You've always felt it, Halen. Even when you were a child — your love of nature was no coincidence. Your very soul cried out to the magic of the world. Thrived in it. Found peace in it.

"When the other races were created and came to inhabit Alagaësia, we injected ourselves amongst them. The Grey Folk shared their language, the Ancient Language, with us so that we may communicate with them, and we, in turn, shared our magic with them.

"But the Grey Folk became greedy and foolish. They did not realize the very nature of what we had given them. The gift we had chosen to share with them. They nearly destroyed everything. When they tied our magic to their language, our powers became dormant. Somehow, the spell locked us away from our magic, and our people fell into despair and ruin.

"But we did not know about their loophole. We did not know about the Name of Names. As our people lived on, generation, after generation, the magic became forgotten. And eventually, it faded from memory, along with everything else.

"But then _you_ happened, Halen Zarasdaughter. Not only did you show an affinity for magic when you killed the soldier, but it was as though you had awakened inside of us what we had long forgotten. But of course, by then, it was too late."

Hal forgot to struggle. Forgot to think. Forgot to breathe. So enraptured she was by the Shade's story, her heart beating in her chest as though in response. A single tear ran down her cheek, for even without the use of the Ancient Language, Hal somehow knew the Shade was telling the truth.

"Do you remember this hilltop?" the Shade asked. "Do you remember all the times you brought me here? How I would clamor after you, breathless?"

"Thea, please don't do this," she said, fighting back tears. "I know you're still in there. Let me help you. Let us fight this."

"Oh, so now I am Thea? You do not think me a liar?"

But something in the Shade's expression faltered for a moment, and once again, Hal thought of the tiny soul that she had felt inside that head raging of war and bloodlust. It was to that soul Hal needed to talk to, but it was so hard with so many other dominant ones controlling the body.

As the light began to fade, torches came to life around them. Hal wasn't sure how she had missed them, but they cast an eerie glow. Hal struggled with her bonds, but she was still exhausted and shaken by the revelations of her lineage. Of her sister. She couldn't focus. And she began to cry in fear of her fate.

"Thea, please!"

"That may be my name, but your sister is no more. And when I am done with you, Halen as you know her will cease to exist as well."

Thea — no, the Shade — closed her eyes and began to whisper. Her lips moved quickly, almost unnatural as her outstretched hand hung menacingly over Hal, her ring twinkling in the fading sunlight. The words sounded nothing like the Ancient Language. It sounded thicker and darker. Older. At first, nothing happened. And Hal was shaking as her eyes roamed her surroundings, unsure of what she expected to see.

She felt something seize her heart, the same pain she had felt in her dream. The same pain she had felt as she walked closer to Uden. She should have never stepped foot on this island. Had she known — had she even fathomed that this was what the Shade had in store for her…

Hal let out a scream, her chest feeling like it was being ripped open. The Shade continued to chant, the words echoing around them as if the very air was responding to them. It became stiff and thick, the hair on Hal's arm standing on end as dark energy filled the air.

Hal could see the Shade frowning, fighting to hold on to the magic as spirits began to come forth. The same spirits that had helped Hal only moments before. Hal's heart cried out at the betrayal. She had been a fool to trust them.

But minutes began to tick by. The Shade began to shake with exertion, mumbling faster. Hal blinked as the spirits fought against the Shade's magic, pulling away while the Shade tried to pull them down.

Unwilling.

The spirits were unwilling.

There was a panicked roar and Hal's eyes widened as Thorn appeared, crashing through the trees and heading straight for the Shade with his jaw wide open.

From the other side of the cliff, a Lethrblaka appeared and lunged towards Thorn, defending the Shade who hadn't even broken its concentration. As if it had been waiting, expecting. Hal only had a moment to glance, her eyes finding Murtagh's, whose were wide with fear for her.

But whatever magic or fight the spirits had been using to fight the Shade weakened. And his face was the last thing she saw as the souls began to descend.


	42. Chapter 42: It Is Time

It took Murtagh several moments to realize he was screaming, the anguish and shock ripped from his throat as his mind took in what his eyes did not want to believe. But he only had a moment to realize that the souls were being sucked towards Hal before he was tossed from Thorn's saddle, along with Invidia.

Thorn roared, biting and kicking at the Lethrblaka who screamed, but they were all immune to it. But the scream alerted the Ra'zac nearby, and Murtagh wondered just how much magic the Shade had used to collect these demons and breed them to such numbers.

Invidia shouted, using the same spell Blödhgarm had used to conjure the light in the cave, but she hurled it at the Ra'zac then shouted at Murtagh, "You need to stop that Shade from turning Hal. I will keep the Ra'zac off of you. Go now!"

Murtagh cut down the Ra'zac, ignoring the blood as it splattered against his face and clothes. He could hear Invidia shouting in the Ancient Language, light and fire illuminating the air behind him as he ran towards Hal.

The closer he got, the more he realized how much magic was in the air. The last time he had felt such energy had been around Galbatorix, but even this felt stronger. More dangerous. Hal's body was twitching as the souls entered her body, and Murtagh let out a scream as he lunged towards the Shade, Zar'roc held high as he increased the wards and shields around him to defend against the Shade's magic.

She side-stepped him with ease and he retaliated with magic. Her eyes went wide when he used the Name of Names, and he was stunned that she seemed to recognize it.

"You are too late," she muttered, her voice low as she dodged his attack. "Even if you kill me, the spell is done. She will turn."

Murtagh screamed again, the Shade dodging and ducking from his attacks. She was noticeably unarmed, and her lip was curled in frustration as she began to realize that he was a stronger swordsman, probably more so than she had expected or anticipated. And he could see her movements were almost clumsy. She wasn't formally trained, that much was obvious. She was moving on pure instinct.

Lunging sharply, on the verge of careless desperation to end the fight quickly, Murtagh swung for her side. The Shade ducked down and threw her fist into his stomach. The force of it made him feel like he was going to be sick, and she used the fact that he was momentarily stunned to take a fistful of his hair and yank his head back, exposing his throat. She brought her fist back and he knew that she could easily strike in a manner that would crush his windpipe. But something over his shoulder caught her eye and she stared until a look of horror crossed her.

"NO!" The Shade shouted. She seemed to forget all about him, and had even released his hair a bit as thought to let him go as she took a sudden step forward. And Murtagh watched in confusion as she froze just as quickly, until he noticed the red line appearing around her neck, a thin trail of blood as though she had been beheaded. Just as the Shade began to scream in pain, her body turned to smoke and she vanished.

Murtagh turned, immediately on high alert, unsure of what the Shade had seen that had seemed to frighten her so. But he felt his sword fall from his hands, hope leaving him as Hal stood before him. Her hand was outstretched as a gold light emanating from her hand faded to nothing.

Her eyes were a piercing, blood red.

Hal's eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed. Murtagh ran towards her, catching her just before she hit the ground. Her body had gone completely limp, her skin — which was still brown, at least for now — was shockingly cold as he dropped to his knees, patting her cheek gently.

"Hal? Come on, Hal, wake up."

He pressed his ear to her chest and felt his eyes brim with tears. There was no heartbeat.

"Halen, please wake up," he cried, patting her cheek harder. He laid her down on the ground and began chest compressions, hoping to revive her. "Breathe, Halen. I need you to breathe for me, okay?"

She didn't respond, didn't gasp for air or open her eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks as he heard footsteps approach. Without thinking, he picked up his sword and aimed it, feeling manic in case it was the Ra'zac or the Shade. But Invidia halted a few feet away, holding her hands up.

Murtagh lowered his weapon and continued to perform the compressions.

"Murtagh," Invidia said gently, pityingly, painfully. Her voice was tight.

"If you touch her, I will kill you," Murtagh hissed, reading her tone.

"I don't like it either. But we cannot let her turn. It's not fair to Halen and you know it."

"If you touch her, I will kill you," he repeated slowly, not looking up. Thorn inhaled and let out a roar so fierce and heartbreaking that Murtagh wept even harder, his vision blurring so badly that he had to stop and wipe his eyes.

"Dammit, Halen," he seethed, his anger returning, "you promised me. You promised me we'd stay together, no matter what. You promised me. You prom —"

He wailed, his hands shaking as he buried his face in her neck. She wasn't turning, but she wasn't breathing either. He cradled her head in his hand, kissing her lips, his tears falling and running down her cheeks. "I love you," he whispered. "That's what I wanted to tell you. That I love you. I love you. I lo —"

His voice broke and he screamed, rocking back and forth hysterically, Hal dead, in his arms.

…

 _Halen._

 _It is time._

Hal's eyes flew open. She immediately felt the soft breeze, warm, on her face. She turned her head, realizing quickly that she was outside. In the forest, back on Illium. She would know those trees anywhere. She closed her eyes again briefly, relishing in the peace and quiet before her memory suddenly filled with images of the Shade, and the spirits she had manipulated into possessing Hal.

Hal scrambled to her feet, but all she saw around her were trees. This hadn't been where she was when she was with the Shade. She had been on Uden, paralyzed and very much afraid.

But she felt the opposite as she walked, observing her surroundings with a little curiosity and confusion, but she did not register pain or fear. She breathed, knowing something was wrong, but unable to comprehend what it was.

"Hello, my love."

Something about the words stirred something in Hal's chest. Hal paused as a figure appeared before her. Standing directly in the path of the sunlight, Hal couldn't make out a face. She only registered it as a woman's voice. The same voice who had been invading Hal's dreams for many months now.

 _It is time._

 _She is coming._

 _Never alone._

She knew this voice. Knew this woman. The figure didn't move as Hal drew near, her face still obscured. But that same feeling of familiarity tugged at her heart, full of love and want. A childlike kind. A bond, sacred and sweet. A protectiveness. It was like Hal knew. Maybe she had always known, even when she dared not allow herself to hope. But now, she would finally see for herself.

Hal stopped, just barely a foot away. The woman turned, angling her head slightly as her features came into view. Tears filled Hal's eyes as she reached out a hand, cupping the woman's high cheeks, warm and soft to the touch. As though real and alive.

Hal smiled through her tears. "Hello, mama."

…

They walked in silence for quite some time, the leaves silent as they walked over them. Their feet were bare, and Hal realized they wore similar dresses. But where her mother's sleeves were long and form-fitting, Hal's was just two thick straps. They walked arm in arm, until Hal could bear the silence no more.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

Her mother's grip became tight as her gaze remained forward. "You are fading, yes. But we are doing everything we can to prevent that from happening."

Hal stopped. They both did, and turned to look at each other. Hal marveled at how much like her mother she appeared. The same nose and mouth. If she had not had to cut her hair, it would be as long as well. But her hair had always been slow to grow.

"We?"

Her mother's face grew sad. "We do not know why we were trapped as spirits. After we died, many of us just woke up in these forms. Entities of light and energy. We were aimless for years until Thea returned to the island using dark magic. We knew it was her, we could recognize the magic as our own. And even in her new form, I would know my daughter anywhere. But she was strong. We didn't know what she was after, but we tried to slow her down where we could. We even managed to trap her on Uden, but after breeding the Ra'zac, she was able to send them in her place. Our magic is strong, but limiting. I do not know what will happen now that we are no longer able to enforce our wards."

Her mother cupped her cheek. "After some time, it did not take us long to realize she was tracking down any survivors of our village, assuming that whomever she found would be a candidate for her plan. I knew it had to be you, because in my heart I knew you had survived. Watching that boat sail away with you on it was the greatest gifts I could have ever received. That my child might yet survive. But I did not know where you were, I just had a feeling. And I reached out, trying to find any magic user on the ethereal planes to hear my plea and answer my call."

"Eragon," Hal breathed.

Her mother nodded. "I was able to convince him to help, resulting in the young Morzansson being sent to you. I did not have much to go on, just a mother's hope and a memory of you that I hoped would be a enough. But then the Ra'zac found you. And as it tortured you, your heart and soul cried out to us. Your magic was like a beacon, but not just to us. Thea felt it as well. And that was how she knew for certain to go to Illium. She got close once, when she attacked your mind. But you surprised her by retaliating as strongly as you did, and it frightened her enough to withhold doing so again. But because she still did not know who you were, the rest of us did our best to shield you from her. To protect you as best we could. But, as you well know, your leaving your village surprised us all.

"She sensed you as soon as you left, and dispatched the Ra'zac while she tried to infiltrate your mind. You were so strong, my love. I know the cost was grave, but you fought so bravely. Once you returned to the village, she was no longer able to sense you. That was when she set the traps in the caves, assuming that you would at least seek to hunt down the Ra'zac. She decided to be patient rather than attacking again."

"And she was right," Hal muttered. She breathed. "At least if I am dead, I cannot become a Shade. I can't hurt anyone."

Her mother smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.

Hal swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me who you were. I asked and you never answered."

"Because you had built a new life for yourself. A _good_ life. A life you deserved. Even in this form, we are still dead. I feared that telling you would get you hung up on a past you had tried to escape. It was enough, for all of us, to see that you have grown, and prospered, on your own. That you found life and love and meaning and self. That was all I wished for you when I put you on that boat. And it is all I still wish for you, even now."

Hal blinked back tears. "It's too late."

"Only if you want it to end this way," her mother said cryptically.

"What do you mean? How else can this possibly end?"

"Listen to me carefully, Hal, as there is no precedent for what I am about to tell you. And your decision now could spell the beginning or the end of Alagaësia as we know it." Hal felt herself waver with uncertainty, but she nodded, driven by curiosity and barely contained desperation that there was another way. "The very essence of a Shade is rooted in evil. Either an evil sorcerer using spirits for his own misdeeds, or evil spirits using a living creature for their own misdeeds. But despite the fact that Thea forced us, there is a chance you will not turn if you live."

Hal shook her head. "But that's impossible."

"We don't want to be a Shade any more than you do. To have two unwilling participants sharing the same body is an act that has never been done before."

"Then it can be undone?"

Her mother looked pained. "Not that we are aware of. Thea spent years all over Alagaësia, especially far north, researching and discovering ancient forms of magic that had not been used or discovered in centuries. We're talking dark magic, like necromancy and dangerous forms of alchemy. It is this magic that was used to force us to bend to her will, and she did it without knowing our true names. Can you imagine something like that being unleashed on the world?"

Hal felt her chest tighten in a panic. "But why does she want this magic? What good will it do her to have it and use it?"

"That, we don't know. Whatever evil thoughts the person that turned her into a Shade planted into her mind, we can only assume those are the guidelines she is now following."

"What happens to me if I wake?"

Her mother licked her lips. "There are three possibilities. The first, is that the energy being exerted on your body from the sudden influx of souls inhabiting it, with this level of magic, will kill you and everything in the immediate vicinity."

Hal felt her knees weaken. "Oh. Okay. And what are my other two options?"

"You will turn into a true Shade, and you will kill everyone in the immediate vicinity."

"If the third option is not a good one then just let me die now. Please do not give me optimism where there is none."

"Your final option, and our only hope, is that your body adapts to the existence of the souls within it. This will prevent the first option from happening, but will require a few days in which we will have to maintain control of your physical form as we work to repair the damage our plight has caused you. We're working to restart your heart now, but it will only work so long as you continue to fight."

"So, I will cease to exist altogether?" Hal commented, horrified at the thought of her body continuing on while her soul was trapped elsewhere. She thought of the tiny soul in the Shade and wondered, for the first time, if that was what remained of her sister. The thought filled her with grief.

"No, we don't think so. If we can heal your body, then we will return full control over to you. You will have your memories and everything. We would almost co-exist, in a way, rather than take over. But, you will then be forced to bear the burden of defeating Thea."

Hal stared in bewilderment. Nothing she was saying made sense. "You've lost your mind."

Her mother stood there patiently. "As far as we know, you and Thea are all that is left of our people. Possessing perhaps the most ancient form of magic that has ever existed, unhindered by the Ancient Language. Stronger than any elf or dragon rider you both will be. Thea knows this. We could not save her. We were too late. But we must do what we can to stop her all the same before she hurts anyone else."

Hal's mind flashed to Denu, and Murtagh and Thorn, Amon and Tena, Layla, Berjis and Bea and Aiden. Her friends. Her family.

"But I just discovered how to properly use my magic. I cannot defeat Thea."

Her mother stepped closer. "You can't when you are alone. But you are no longer alone."

Faces and bodies began to take shape around them. Hal yelped in surprise, but she watched as she recognized her grandparents, her childhood friends and their families. Her village. Her people. They all smiled down at her, looking as they had before they had died. Wholesome and full of life. And Hal understood then why her mother kept using the term "we" in her explanations.

"Thea used us because she knew how much magic resides in each of us. You were already strong within your own right. But if we fight against you turning, then Thea would have created perhaps the one thing that can stop her." Her mother gave Hal a kind smile. "We will be with you, every step of the way. To guide you. You will be stronger than any who have walked this world before you. But you can use your powers for good. You can stop Thea."

Hal slowly turned, taking in all the faces, memories and names returning after years of trying to forget. Then she stopped. It was almost as though Amon was staring right at her. But she blinked and some of his features changed. The skin became darker, the eyes lighter, with flecks of green in them. But he was still burley in size, grinning like he always did. Like a man who had everything in the world to smile about.

"Papa!" Hal cried, and he came forward and took her face in his oversized hand, wiping her tears away. Even grown, Hal immediately felt like a small child in front of him.

"I'm so proud of you, my brave, sweet girl."

It was too much, it was all too much. Hal fell to her knees and wept, hugging herself tightly. "I cannot do this!" she cried. "I can't. What if I turn? You are asking me to put lives at stake on the hope that I will not fail."

"Everything we've done has been built on hope," her mother argued, falling to her knees as well. "The hope that you would survive the attack on our village. The hope that someone like Eragon would get my plea, and send help. You must always continue to hope, and fight, my love. Fight for those who will miss you and need your strength to carry on. Fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. And most importantly," her mother wiped her tears from her cheeks, "you must fight for love."

Something stirred in Hal's chest at her words. She glanced down at her lap, hesitant. "And when you say I must 'defeat' Thea…?"

At that, her mother shed a single tear, unable to make Hal's gaze. "I fear your sister is lost to us. You must be prepared to do whatever it takes —"

"So you want me to kill my sister after learning she has been alive all this time? You honestly think I would choose my life over hers after everything she has endured?!"

"She is not the Thea you remember —"

"You can't even look me in the eyes and say it! How am I supposed to accept it? How can I after I lived a life she should have had?! And you would give up on her without trying to find another solution —"

"Do you think I would ask such a thing of you if I thought there was any other way?" At the sharp edge of her mother's voice, the grief, Hal fell silent, wallowing in misery of her own. "How do you think I feel, wishing all this time that Thea had died rather than become that…"

Her mother looked horrorstruck, and Hal felt her eyes burn with tears once more. There was a beat of silence, and Hal's grief at what she had thought was the death of her family fractured as the reality of their horror began to set in. All these years and Hal had thought _she_ had been alone. Never knowing that her sister was being tortured…? Hal couldn't even comprehend her own shame. Her own failure at protecting Thea.

"I could not save your sister," her mother whispered, her voice quivering with a despair Hal was beginning to feel. "And I will never forgive myself for that. I failed her. But Halen, my love, what little remains of your sister is trapped in that body and she is not strong enough to break free. I know what I am asking you do to do is cruel and unfair. You were always so protective of Thea. But stopping her, killing her if you must, will be doing her a greater kindness. She has blood on her hands, and she will have more if we do not do something. Especially now. We were able to keep her contained on Uden, and look at the damage she still managed to wrought. But now that she has trapped us here…"

Hal clenched the material of her dress tightly as she thought of Celia, of the Xano Village. Of Denu. Of the Tenari Village. There was so much at stake. So many people she wanted to protect. And there was so much she didn't know. But if Thea truly got her way…

"She is not like the Shades I have learned about," Hal began, her voice grave. "She has retained her old name, her old memories, even though she claims Thea as we knew her is gone. She shows emotions I was led to believe a Shade could not. I _felt_ her soul in there. Even if it was small, even if it was scared, it was alive, she exists. And you would have me _drive_ a _blade_ _through her chest_ as if she were nothing? You would have me kill my sister?"

Her voice broke on that last part and Hal burst into tears as it tore her heart in two. "I don't understand any of this!" she cried. "I don't understand how you're here. I don't understand why or how any of this happened? I can't do this. I can't…"

"I know —"

"NO, YOU DON'T KNOW!" Hal screamed, her face twisting in fury as she looked up at her mother. "YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS. I WATCHED YOU DIE. I WATCHED OUR PEOPLE DIE. AND I HAVE SPENT EVERY DAMN MOMENT OF MY LIFE SINCE, TRYING TO REBUILD A SEMBLANCE OF NORMALCY AND PEACE. AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU EXIST IN THESE FORMS? THAT MY SISTER HAS BEEN TORTURED AND CORRUPTED SINCE SHE WAS SIX? AND YOU THINK YOU KNOW HOW THIS FEELS?! MY ENTIRE LIFE IS A LIE!"

To Hal's surprise, her mother was not angry. The woman was openly weeping, nodding as Hal shouted. And then her mother bowed forward, resting her forehead on the ground. "You're right, Halen. You're right, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you have borne this burden on your own all this time. This grief. If I could take it from you, if I could do it myself, I would. If I could ease your heartache and your guilt, my love, I would. But I can't. And I must ask you to do what I cannot. Please, Halen, do not let your sister lose any more of her life. Do not let her take another's life. Let her rest and find the peace she has deserved all this time. I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but please: bear this burden a little longer."

Hal was sobbing so hard her shoulders were shaking. She could not stand to hear her mother beg. She had not meant to upset her so. Not after what she had endured herself. Not after what she had lost. And Hal was so indignant on behalf of her people, her sister, that she wished she could drive her sword through the neck of the soldiers herself. They had done this. Galbatorix had done this. They had ruined her and her village. They had allowed for her sister to become tainted.

Hal looked around her, at the grief-stricken and morose faces of her village. "This isn't f-f-fair," Hal stuttered. "We were supposed to have all of this time together. And now I have to lose all of you all over again."

Her mother took a shuddering breath as she raised her head. Stroking Hal's cheeks and wiping away the tears, her mother softly shook her head. "Oh, Halen."

"What if I said no?" Hal asked, looking back at her mother. "What if I chose death? Couldn't I just stay with you?"

"You do not want that. I have seen the life you have led. Could you really leave all of that behind? Could you risk Thea tearing it all apart in her campaign for blood?"

Hal sniffed, fighting back another wave of tears, wanting to believe the warm touch on her cheek was real. That this was all real. To see her mother and father again, to hear their voices and be calmed by their presence. She ached for what she had lost. And she ached even more for her sister and what she had endured.

But her mother was right. She could choose to risk her own life. Her own doomed fate. But she could not bear the thought of risking anyone else's.

"Okay," Hal whispered, unconvinced as she said it. "I will continue to fight. So that we may co-habit this body and pray I do not kill us all."

The rest of her village vanished, as if she had given them a command, leaving just her and her mother. "And you will stay with me?" Hal asked once more. "Will I know you are there or…"

"We will be connected to you here," her mother said, touching her temple. "And here," she added, touching her heart. "But you will not feel us, nor hear us. We will let you make your own choices and will not interfere in your life. You will still have your independence and freedom. But if you need us, you may call on us. And we will come."

Her mother began to fade and Hal shouted to her once more. She waited patiently and Hal rose to her feet. "Do you…do you know the Ancient Language?"

"Some of it, yes. The memories of our ancestors were restored when we died…although they are a bit hazy. Why?"

"The words ' _iet dunei_ ' — how do they translate?"

Her mother gave a knowing smile. "I think you already know, my love."

…

Murtagh didn't think it was possible to feel this broken. Every breath he took felt like knives in his lungs, his throat enflamed and burning from his screams, his voice growing hoarse as he cried. He was still beating on Hal's chest, her face so peaceful she could be asleep.

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

"Murtagh, _please_ ," Invidia said in a low voice, not quite begging. "We must go before the Shade or the Ra'zac return."

He ignored her. His arms weren't even tired yet. Because Hal had promised — she'd _promised_. She'd never lied to him, never broken a promise. She knew better than to start now.

"You said we'd stay together," he gritted through his teeth, pressing down on her chest with force. "And you've never lied to me. Breathe Halen. _Please breathe._ "

He wept, but he never stopped. To stop would be to give up. And he couldn't give up. Not on Hal.

He had tried everything he could think of, but nothing was working. Yet. Nothing was working yet. He refused to believe she was gone. Not now. Not when they had made it this far. He could not lose hope. If he lost her…

"Come on, Halen. _Breathe._ I know you are still fighting. Fight for me, please. I love you, Halen, please don't leave me. Please don't go —"

His voice broke again and he curled up against the fresh wave of pain, screaming before sitting back up and returning to the chest compressions. He was seconds from beating on her chest when Invidia gasped. Murtagh saw it as well.

Hal's hand had just twitched.

"Murtagh, step back!" Invidia warned, pointing her sword. "She could be a Shade."

He didn't want to believe it, but then he recalled that brief moment before she had collapsed. Her eyes had been as red as Thorn's hide. Without thinking, he reached for her face, gently lifting her eyelid. They were still brown for now, but there was a tint to them, reddish in color, and expanding by the second.

…

Murtagh had long since gone numb. Physically, from sitting with his back against the wall, arms resting on the top of his knees as he kept an eye on Hal's sleeping figure. Mentally, from waiting for the inevitable.

He had sat here for almost several hours, watching. Waiting. He had always thought the process to becoming a Shade was more instantaneous, and he could not help but hold on to the hope that something had gone wrong and Hal would not turn. He had checked her eyes about every minute or so since, for signs of life amongst other things. Sometimes they were their normal, brown hue. Sometimes there was the development of red. The color volleyed back and forth, as if her body didn't know what to make of her. Her skin was as brown as ever, although her complexion was sickly and she was still frightfully cold to the touch. Her hair was still dark. All in all, physically, she was still Hal. But then, why wouldn't she wake?

Thorn and Invidia tried to coax him to eat something. To talk. To stretch his legs. To move. To feel _something_. But he could only do so much. Murtagh felt…hollow. He had been too late to save her, and now he had lost her to a fate perhaps worse than death.

He gripped the dagger in his hand.

He had already decided on what he knew he must do, and it had to be him. His eyes blurred with tears once more at the thought, but he had long since stopped wiping them away. He should've already done it. Plunged the dagger into her chest before she had a chance to turn. And yet, in order to do so, he needed her to turn. He could not do it as long as she looked like his Hal. He could not look at the face that had smiled up at him so many times, that had slowly yet effortlessly captured his heart, and kill her.

A small sob escaped him, his heart twisting in anguish. Thorn tried to touch his mind, to console him with what little words he could muster, but Murtagh could feel the dragon's own grief through their bond, which only made him feel worse.

Suddenly, Hal groaned from where she lay on the opposite side of the room. Murtagh froze, his chest tight. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He wasn't ready.

Her hand twitched and her eyes flew open as if something had scared her awake. He could hardly breathe, staring at her with trepidation. She blinked, as if confused. Then she slowly raised both hands to her face, staring at them as if she'd never seen them before.

"It worked," she whispered, stunned. No, not Hal. Someone other than Hal was speaking, although it was clearly her lips moving. It sounded like dozens of voices speaking at once, and Murtagh felt like he was destroyed. No longer Hal. And yet, to cruelly keep that beautiful face, to taunt him of what he had lost before he'd truly had a chance to cherish it.

Hal — no, the Shade — watched him curiously, as if trying to figure out who he was. For Hal's eyes to look at him so blankly, he almost wanted to drive the dagger into his own chest.

"Murtagh Morzansson."

It breathed his name with familiarity, and something in him snapped, fury replacing his anguis as he jumped to his feet. He yanked on her arm, dragging her — it — to its feet. He slammed it to the wall, bracing his forearm against her neck, dagger poised at her chest.

Silence. His hand was shaking with his lack of control, and Hal's eyes looked confused, yet unafraid. And something in them flashed, like a piece of his Hal was still in there. Could see him. Her hand went to his face, touching his jaw, and her expression briefly softened as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Rider?"

And just that easily, the fight left him completely. He was ashamed of his own relief, his own inability to end it now. It might kill a part of his soul to do so. He dropped the dagger and fell to his knees, sobbing inconsolably. He couldn't do this. He wasn't strong enough for this. He could not let her leave. Could not let her live. And yet he could not bring himself to do anything about it.

"She is unhurt, _Shur'tugal_ ," the voice said, returning to the eerie speech that was nothing like how Hal sounded. "She is safe. We made sure of that."

"Then WHERE IS SHE?!" he screamed, looking up at Hal and feeling his heart lurch at the gentle look on her face. One of sympathy and kindness. Familiar, yet foreign all the same.

She tapped the side of her head. "She is here. She is weak and understandably frightened. If we return her to this body now, as it stands, the shock of what has been done to her could either turn her or kill her. We will remain while she gathers her strength. Then we will return her to you. She will be as you remember her, but…stronger." Then, to his surprise, they repeated everything in the Ancient Language to reassure him of what he was hearing.

"You may speak the Ancient Language, but how can I trust you? _Who_ are you?"

They seemed to consider his question for a moment, as if debating whether to answer. They stepped around him, moving carefully as if they were not used to legs. He eventually rose to his feet, following them outside as they took in the decrepit remains Thorn had found. Murtagh looked around them as well, Thorn's gaze narrowed in on Hal but he did not acknowledge either of them.

"You know this place," Murtagh said.

"Yes," said Hal's voice, breathless as though in wonder. "As does Halen."

His muscles tensed.

"How did you find it?"

Murtagh swallowed thickly, unsure of whether or not he should answer. "Thorn sensed it while we scoured the island for a safe place to regroup. Said there was magic here, preserving the village."

"Yes. We hid it from the world after we perished. There are strong and ancient wards surrounding this place. You will be safe here."

Invidia appeared from around the corner, a bundle of firewood in her arms. Her face lit up at the sight of Hal and she moved to run towards them, but then she saw Murtagh's stricken expression. Immediately she dropped the wood and threw her hands out. Murtagh knew she was using a non-verbal spell, and shouted for her to stop. But it didn't matter, whatever spell she used was no match for the Shade. Hal didn't even look her way, turning towards the rest of the village as Invidia's spell was blocked by a shield. Murtagh shivered at the sight.

As Hal — the Shade — wandered through what remained of Hal's village, Invidia ran to him. "Why did you let her go?!" Invidia snapped, looking stricken. "Why would you not kill her before she turned?"

"Because he knows doing so would kill Halen as well."

They both gasped in surprise as Hal — the Shade — appeared behind them. Even Thorn snorted in surprise and Murtagh instinctively reached for his sword. But something gave him pause.

"Why does Halen still look like herself?" Murtagh asked. Invidia's attention snapped towards him, baffled that he seemed to think it the most pressing question at the moment.

"Because she is not a Shade in the true sense of the word. What Thea did to her was unprecedented. Even we were not aware it was possible, which is why we are working as fast we can to preserve Halen's life."

"How so?" Invidia asked.

"Thea?" Murtagh inquired at the same time. The name sounded familiar. Hal's expression became pained and he groaned when he realized why he knew that name. "No. Please no. Please tell me Hal does not know of this."

"She found out just before you arrived to rescue her. And Thea is now aware that Halen is alive."

Invidia looked at him, baffled. Hal looked at her. "Thea is the Shade that has done this to us. And she is Halen's younger sister."

"She _was_ Hal's younger sister," Murtagh corrected, his voice strained. "That thing is no more human than a Ra'zac. It has forfeited the right to claim Halen as family."

"None of this explains how you exist as you do," Invidia snapped, trying to get back to the matter at hand. "What does Halen have to do with any of this?"

Hal's shoulders sagged. "Everything we are about to tell you, we have told Halen. We suggest you pay careful attention. From this moment forward, Halen's life will be stake."

…

"You're lying," Murtagh hissed as the Shade finished its story. "There's no way —"

"You can believe what you want. But Halen has chosen to accept everything we have just told you. She will be able to confirm our identity when she wakes. But she has chosen to fight, _Shur'tugal_."

"Bring her back to me _now_!"

"We told you already — we can't. Her body just absorbed the souls of many with magic beyond your comprehension. We will wake her when we know this act will not leave her for dead or turned. We have a hard time believing you'd want anything less."

He sneered, angry and desperate to see Hal, whole. To hear from her that she was truly all right. But he could not argue with their logic, if it was indeed all true. And his head hurt from trying to absorb it all.

Invidia herself looked like she had been stabbed in the stomach. "Your very existence," she whispered, "Halen's _very existence_ , challenges the very reality of how we understand magic to be."

"Aye," Hal's voice agreed. But there was a somberness to it as well. "If word of her were to get out, if word of Thea were to get out, they would both be hunted down. Thea, we believe, was already a victim of this. We believe evil spirits were used to turn her, but that still does not negate how powerful she is in her own right. You've seen for yourself what Halen was capable of when she was human and untrained. If this transition with Halen is successful, both she and Thea will have the abilities of Shades in addition to their own prowess. But there will always be those who will seek to use her magic for nefarious means. Thea will not be your only enemy.

"If we are able to preserve Halen's humanity, if she survives this, she could very well be the mother of a new generation of magic users. Her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren could very well harness this type of magic. To wield it without being trapped within the confines of the Ancient Language. Galbatorix himself nearly had her, and he had no idea. In that regard, we are fortunate that night ended the way it did. If he had come to realize — the very nature of the war could have ended very differently."

Murtagh was shaking at the thought. The thought of Hal being raised in captivity of Galbatorix, instead of finding refuge on Illium. He would have found her true name — and at ten she would have had no way to defend herself from him. He would have twisted her, tortured her, broken her, and molded her into his puppet. Into his slave. Just as he had done Murtagh. And then, when she was old enough, Hal would've been forced to give birth to children the moment she was able. And if the child had no magical abilities, Galbatorix would've killed it without a second thought. He shook the frightening thoughts from his head before he was sick.

When he turned, he shivered when he saw Hal's eyes on him. Her head was tilted, as though studying him. "What happens now?" Invidia asked, and Murtagh was grateful when Hal looked away.

"The Shade will come looking for Halen as soon as she has her strength. Hal must limit her use of magic. Thea will always be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Even with proper shields, now that Thea knows her identity, knows exactly who she is looking for, hiding will be even harder. But Thea may choose to lay low, since she does not yet know what we are capable of. And she fears us since she knows how strong we are."

The words made Murtagh shiver. He had heard enough.

"Can she hear me?" he asked, blinking back tears as he looked up. "If I were to speak to Hal, through you, would she hear me?"

"Yes, Dragon Rider. She would hear you."

He strode over to the Shade, to Hal, taking her face in his hands. Thorn hissed and Invidia gripped her sword tightly, but Murtagh did not feel afraid. The deeper he sunk into those beautiful, brown eyes, the less he felt afraid. Even as they looked at him blankly. Hal was still in there. Hal was still fighting, they had said. Then so would he.

"Halen," he breathed, tears running down his cheeks. " _My_ Halen. Come back to me. I love —" He grew flustered, aware that he wasn't quite speaking to Hal. And yet… He looked her in the eyes once more, his voice strong with resolve. "I love you. With all that I am. I love you, Halen. And I need you to come back so I can tell your properly. So, keep fighting, _iet dunei_. I will be here waiting for you when you return."

He walked away from her, overcome with emotion. But more than that, he could not bear the feeling of how his heart fluttered at the tears that had welled in Halen's eyes. It was as though she had truly heard him.


	43. Chapter 43: The Shade

The promise of Hal's safe return was the only thing keeping him going. He pulled dead, dry wood from the destroyed huts, refusing to think of who had died within them. He kept a fire going, wrapping Hal in his blanket, hoping the warmth would be enough to combat her waxy complexion and cold skin. The Sani seemed positive that she would be stronger in due time. But her appearance now told him otherwise.

He studied her features carefully. The Sani people had withdrawn after he had left, according to Invidia, and Hal had returned to her comatose state. They sought shelter in one of the huts that was still relatively intact to keep out of the sun. There was a decent-sized lake filled with fresh-water just of the edge of the village. Despite the evidence of what had happened here, Murtagh could see Halen growing up in a place like this. Surrounded by nature, the sun bright and cheery, the lake nearby for the children to play in. He hated that Galbatorix had ruined it.

He kept her as hydrated as he could. Thorn, bless him, found a hive not too far away, hiding in the corner of one of the huts, and Murtagh tore it down, letting the sweet nectar pass through Hal's lips so that she would have something on her stomach. He washed her skin, checked her heart, and did everything he could think to do to make sure she was comfortable. Invidia did not offer to help, as though realizing this was something he needed to do himself.

And if he wasn't caring for Hal, he was simply lying down beside her, pleading for her to wake. He feared, at first, touching her mind, not wanting the Sani to intrude on his thoughts either, not fully trusting them. But he eventually caved, wanting to reach her. Wanting to bring her back to the surface so that he could look into her eyes and know that she was okay.

 _Come back to me, Halen._

 _To me._

 _Please._

 _I need you._

 _I love you._

 _Please._

 _Come back._

He poured these thoughts into her every moment he could on the hope that they would reach her. His biggest fear was that she would slip away from him and never know that true extent of his feelings. That he had lost all that time and now, would lose her too.

He curled himself around her body, clinging to her, desperate and, for perhaps the first time in his life, daring to put stock in hope rather than despair. _Please, Halen_ , he begged her. _Don't leave me._

…

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he suddenly felt that his arms were empty and bolted upright. Hal was gone. Panic gripped him as he struggled to get to his feet, moving too quickly to find his balance and crashing into the wall. He ran outside, but did not have to look far at all.

Thorn was sitting at the edge of the lake. And standing beside him was Hal, her hand on his scales as if for support. He could see her swaying weakly from where he stood, but fear, a resistance to hope, kept him in his place.

As if sensing him, or perhaps Thorn told her, Hal slowly began to turn. He couldn't breathe, shaking. But when she was facing him, he saw the anguish and confusion in her face, and the relief in her voice when she cried his name.

He ran to her as she burst into tears. His eyes swam with tears of relief, of pain as she fell into his arms, holding onto him as tightly as he held onto her. He pulled away only to kiss her. Her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. And all the while she cried, apologizing over and over again.

Finally, he pulled away, holding her beautiful face in his hands. Halen. His Halen. "I heard you," she cried, her voice cracking. "Every word. I heard you. Say it again, please."

He smiled despite himself. "Halen." She nodded frantically, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love you." To see her face transform, to see that smile he adored so much light up her eyes. He was lost to her. Completely and utterly lost. "I love you, Hal," he said again. "I love you. I love you. I love —"

She cut him off with a kiss, sweet and tender. Her tears fell onto his cheeks. When she pulled back, she kept close, her nose just brushing against his. "I love you, too," she whispered. "Murtagh, I love you. So much."

It was not quite how he imagined it would be. But he had to admit, it was pretty damn close. He kissed her again, crying as she did with relief and joy, anguish and pain for what might have been. But she had come back. His Halen had come back.

When he finally pulled away, her face still in his hands, he felt his resolve crumble. "I thought I'd lost you."

She nodded. "I know —"

"Why did you _leave_?"

Guilt flashed in her eyes at how crushed he was to even say the words. And she had left him. Despite what the Sani had explained — despite her very real reason for feeling compelled to do so — didn't make it okay.

"I was trying to protect you," she replied, her voice low as if even she was unsure now. "I didn't know what else to do."

"You _talk_ to me, Halen. You don't just run off on your own."

"You would have never let me leave," she cried indignantly.

"Obviously not, it nearly got you killed."

"Then what should I have done? I was desperate — and don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing if the roles were reversed."

"We could have found another way."

"And what way was that? If I had remained, I was all but promised your demise. The way back was blocked by the rocks the Sani didn't manage to stop and the other tunnels were crawling with Ra'zac. I would've met the same damn fate anyway."

"But I could have been with you. And Invidia. And Blödhgarm." And as he said the words, the rest of his anger finally reared its ugly head. "Dammit, Halen, you insist on doing everything on your own!"

He climbed to his feet, knowing he would need to distance himself from her before he lost his nerve. "You always do this," he continued. "You once insisted to me that we work together. _You_ said that. And yet you are incapable of following your own advice and asking for help."

"I'm doing the best that I can with everything that's happened! I was made to feel like I had a split second to make a decision, and I made one."

"Well it was stupid decision," he hissed.

Her eyes widened. "You're such an —"

"Ass," he finished for her, completely unfazed by the insult at this point in their relationship. "I'm not the one who left after confessing. And this is the second time you have died in front of me. Do you have _any_ idea how broken you made me feel?" He swallowed, his hands on his hips as he took a harrowing breath before he lost his nerve. He blinked back his tears before continuing. "To say those words to me, words I've always wanted to hear, and then just leave. What was I supposed to do, Halen? What would I have told the others if I had come back without you? And if the roles were reversed, you'd kill me for doing to you what you've done to me."

She looked stunned, completely at a loss for words. He could see how his words affected her, the remorse. But suddenly, her face became smooth. Apologetic, but not regretful, and he steeled himself thinking she meant to argue.

"That's fair," she admitted. "How you feel — your anger — it's all completely justified. It was selfish — I knew that. I just thought…if I'm going to die, I'd rather he know. It would've been my biggest regret, not telling you how I truly feel after keeping it to myself for so long." Despite his anger, the words rang pleasantly in his ears. How long was 'for so long'? But he made sure to keep his face composed. If he caved now, he'd never be able to argue with her again, regardless of how angry he was.

"But I won't apologize for what I did," she continued, her words dismembering any positive emotions she had just instilled in him. "I'm only sorry that I hurt you in the process."

He felt almost ill. "So what? You'll continue to put yourself in harm's way without consulting me and just…what? See how it goes? Hope you get lucky?"

"Don't talk down to me like I'm an idiot," she snapped.

"I'm not talking down to you; I'm trying to get you to actually think with a hint of self-preservation for once in your life!"

But Hal was already shaking her head. "Why can't you see that everything I'm doing I'm doing to protect the people I care about? If my life is forfeit, then fine. But I cannot and will not bury anyone else I love. Not as long as I am able and still draw breath."

Her words were almost more painful than her actions. The blunt, oblivious way in which she spoke of herself. Like she didn't matter. Like it would be nothing if she died so long as everyone else was alive. Regardless of what state she left them in, she'd rather they be broken then dead. And he realized then, just how dangerously deep her protective nature went, and just how much it scared him.

Hal looked concerned for him, and she reached out to take his hand. But Murtagh stepped away from her, not wanting the contact. Not wanting to cave in now, not when his mind was in such a disarray. She looked like he had slapped her, and his chest was tight. But now that she was safe, everything was starting to catch up to him. The confession that had stunned him for the briefest of seconds, his reply that he loved her too on the tip of his tongue before she suddenly turned and ran. Horror when the rocks came down, too fast for him to move, trapping them. Fury when he realized what she had done. Desperation to reach her, anguish when he thought he had been too late. The mind-numbing fear when he thought she would become a Shade, and he would have to be the one to kill her. And relief, joy, and love as he stood before her now. All these emotions meshed together in a manner that made his head ache. He didn't think he had ever felt so much at once.

"I need to be alone right now," he muttered, stepping past her. "Please, find something to eat and rest until I return."

…

Unsettling disbelief washed over her as she watched his retreating back as he walked along the edge of the lake. How did they go from crying and kissing to fighting in the span of a few seconds? She got to her feet, taking a step to follow after him, to demand they talk about this, but something in the stiffness of his shoulders stopped her. She figured he might be upset — but to walk away from her entirely? She had not seen him so…disappointed.

The weight of the word crushed her, tears of anger and frustration building until she blinked them back. She had been trying to _help_. For once, she thought she could protect others instead of always having to be protected, and now she couldn't even do that much.

Thorn was watching her carefully and she looked away before his gaze unsettled her further. "What? Are you going to lecture me now too?"

He cocked his head to the side. _No, there is nothing to be said now that Murtagh has said his peace._

 _Then you agree with him?_

 _Yes and no. He has made his fair share of split-second decisions without including me, so I know how he feels at the moment, and it's hard not to be sympathetic when — after he told me what you had done — I felt my own sense of panic at the thought of losing you too._

It was harder to feel right in her decision with each passing moment.

 _However,_ Thorn continued, _you are also right in that this likely would have happened eventually, whether it would be the Ra'zac taking us by surprise or the Shade deciding to come find you itself. It takes a lot of courage to face your fears on your own terms to protect your loved ones. And Murtagh knows this, even if he doesn't like it. Because you are right: if he thought he had to do the same thing to protect you and the Tenari, he would've done it, no questions asked._

 _Then why is he so angry? I've never seen him like this. At least not with me._

 _His anger is familiar to him. It's been with him for so long. He is more comfortable with it than he is with the fear and desperation he felt the moment you fled. I think he's still sorting through his feelings for you._

 _That's extremely comforting and exactly what a woman hopes to hear._

Thorn laughed. _I did not mean it like that — he loves you, Hal. Never doubt that. One day, I shall tell you of the conversations we shared just on the topic of his feelings for you._ Her heart swelled with joy despite her despair. To hear Thorn say it — it wasn't that she doubted Murtagh, but knowing the dragon shared a mind with him, his words cemented the truth. It made her only want to run to Murtagh, beg for forgiveness, and kiss him. But she would not do that, at least not yet. _But he is used to guarding his heart,_ Thorn continued. _This is new to him, that is all. Do not fret, Halen. Knowing Murtagh, he will make it a whole eleven minutes before he finds his way back to you._

Hal felt a tad bit relieved at Thorn's jesting. "I'm sorry," she said aloud. "For hurting you. For leaving your rider. For bearing this weight on my own when all you have done is support me and be my friend. I never meant to cause you such distress. Please know I did it all because I love you, too, Thorn. I can't bear to lose you either."

He growled from the back of his throat as Hal wrapped her arms around his nose, laughing when they still did not manage to hug him properly. She felt like a child next to him, but the warmth of him and affection she felt across their own bond gave her peace. And the thought that she had almost lost this — this feeling of life in her blood — made her tear up once more.

 _I love you too, little one_ , Thorn said soothingly. _And I am honored that my rider has chosen you as his mate…even if he is not quite acting like it at the moment._

Hal turned as Invidia approached, smiling kindly with a rabbit in her hand. They didn't speak at first. Even when Hal first woke up and Invidia saw her, all she said was, "I'll find you something to eat so that Murtagh may rest."

Now, as she prepared the rabbit, Hal could only say, "Thank you for doing this. I know you don't eat meat. And I know you don't like to kill."

"For you, this one time, I do not mind." Invidia smiled at her gently and Hal felt even lower. Was there anyone her actions had not upset?

Eleven minutes passed, and Murtagh continued to keep his distance. Thorn had joined him on the other side of the lake, and Hal could just barely make them out in the noonday sun.

As Invidia set her meal in front of her, Hal asked, "What happens now?"

The elf sighed. "You are not safe here or on Illium. We will have to figure out where you can go, but it is likely you will have to flee."

Hal stared in disbelief. "But, Illium is my home. I can't just —"

"Thea will show no mercy. You are you, but we must assume that you could still be turned. And we cannot give Thea any reason to go after your people."

Hal knew what she said was true. But to acknowledge that she would have to leave them? Refusing to cry, Hal slowly caved in, her hands beginning to shake with stress as she tried to appear nonchalant and nodded her head. "Where will I go?"

"I don't know yet. But we must act quickly, while Thea's defenses are down. We must be careful of your magic so that she does not use it to track you, a blindspot we would not have considered." As though seeing the fear in Hal's eyes, Invidia reached out and grabbed her hand. "You have been so brave already. Just be brave for a little bit longer. We will figure out how to stop her." Hal nodded. "Now eat, you need your strength."

Hal did as Invidia instructed, thinking quietly to herself. She felt no different. Didn't feel like hundreds of souls belonging to the people of her dead village were now residing within her. She frowned and looked up at Invidia.

"Is this all real?"

"You rather it be a dream? Or worse?"

"I don't know," Hal admitted. "It just…" she struggled to find the words.

"It's a lot to process," Invidia said sympathetically. "What you've endured…" She looked past Hal's shoulder, at what remained of the Sani village, and Hal flinched. "Finish your meal. The lake feeds into a small river not far from here — although, I'm sure you already know that. But you can bathe there. Perhaps getting cleaned up will do you some good. Help you clear your head."

It might, and Hal saw no other alternative but to agree with Invidia. She finished her meal and Invidia took the blanket and soap from Murtagh's bag that he had left behind. "Would you like for me to come with you?" Invidia asked.

Hal shook her head. "No. No, I think I should be alone for a bit. But thank you."

…

 _You're being stubborn._

 _I don't care, Thorn. I'm just trying to gather my thoughts and I cannot do that when she is near me._

 _You received a rare and fortunate chance to tell the woman you love how you feel and you're…moping on a lake? How, pray-tell, is that gathering your thoughts?_

 _If you don't like it, you don't have to stay_ , Murtagh snapped, losing his patience.

 _If I was anyone else, I would take offense at your tone. But I hear the fear in it. You can lie to Halen. You can even lie to yourself. But you cannot lie to me._

Murtagh didn't respond.

 _I almost did not believe my eyes when I saw her either. I thought, surely, we cannot be so fortunate. She was so scared, as if she too thought it was all a dream. But she is real, and alive, and whole, and safe, at least for now. And she needs you more than ever. The weight she is carrying — the story she has told herself about her family, a lie. Her sister survived, and rather than live the life Hal was able to, she was taken and eventually forced to become a Shade. And you know as well as I that Hal will not let that slide without feeling some semblance of guilt. She just found out the truth about who she is and where her magic comes from — which changes everything we understand about the origins of magic and its capabilities. The souls of her village are right: Halen is in more danger than before._

"I'm not going to protect her any less. I don't love her any less, she is still Halen to me," Murtagh argued.

 _I know it. And Halen knows it. But perhaps, right now, you could continue to remind her of that. You can still be angry with her from much closer than the other side of a lake._

Murtagh kicked at the ground sullenly, hating that Thorn was right. It had been far too long. And had he not told himself that his time with Hal was precious? These last few hours all but proved that. And he just wanted her near. Even when he was angry, he would always want her near. He glanced up to where he last saw Invidia and Hal. He frowned, noticing the elf was by herself.

"Dammit."

He was panting by the time he reached the campsite. Invidia looked at him with a raised brow. "Where's Hal?'

"She went to the river nearby to wash up. Said she preferred to go alone — Murtagh?"

He had taken off, his nerves bad as he thought of what could happen to Hal on her own. The Shade could return, or the Ra'zac, or she could have some strange side effect from the spirits and be hurt and on her own.

Murtagh darted between the trees that had begun to grow and the remains of the huts. Nature had long since reclaimed the land, weeds and vines bursting through what had once been windows, climbing up the sides of the homes that had once been occupied by families. He dared not look too close, fearing what skeletons might yet still remain. But with that thought, he slowed to a stop.

He looked at the houses. Properly looked at them, trying to picture what they could have been like. How a ten-year-old like Halen would have seen a place like this. He thought of her mother, of how beautiful and happy she had been as she had wrapped her arms around her crying child in an attempt to comfort her. Murtagh had always felt a sense of hollowness, never knowing such affection. But he could not imagine how it must have felt for Hal, to watch a woman that lovely treated as less than human. Killed before her eyes.

What did Hal see when she walked through here? Good memories? Or bad?

He wandered, trying to imagine what life had been like before, when he stopped again. Hal was near the edge of the village, sitting before a house that stood somewhat removed from the others. She was crying quietly, such pain and longing in her eyes that Murtagh almost didn't want to interrupt. But his soul be damned if he would leave her alone again, especially when she looked like she believed she had single-handedly ruined everything.

He took a slow breath, glad she was at least physically unhurt. His steps were quiet, as he feared disturbing her. But he knew, just as he always did, that Hal would know he was there. He stood behind her, unsure of what to do or say, so he simply stood there at her back.

"I tried to go in," she said suddenly, her voice full of emotion. "But I got scared. Because I know it will not look as it once did in my memories. And I don't want to ruin it by seeing what has become of it."

There was nothing he could say, and he eventually sat down behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, laying his cheek on her back. She was shaking and he squeezed her tighter.

They sat there for several, long minutes, neither of them moving. Neither of them speaking. He feared Hal was only torturing herself, staring at the house she grew up in. But before he could say anything, she moved to wipe her face. "I should go wash up."

"I'll go with you." He could hear the sharp inhale of breath, as though she meant to argue. But she didn't speak, thinking better of it. He followed behind her as she walked, holding what he recognized as the blanket from his bag. Invidia must've grabbed it for her.

Hal paused when they reached the river, observing it with sullenness. "It's gotten wider. I guess since no one is here to care for it." She kneeled down near the water, putting her hand in. "At least it's warm."

She sat down on the grassy bank, pulling off her boots and jerkin. Murtagh turned to give her privacy. "Do you not think we are past the point of modesty, rider?"

There was something almost teasing in her voice, and he could not help but smile. "I do not want to risk it either way."

"Even if I don't mind it?"

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

"I usually don't have to try very hard."

He dared laugh. "I suppose not."

He could hear her clothes dropping to the ground and he swallowed, keeping his head down, his hair falling and blocking part of his vision. It was still, with no sound coming from Hal or to indicate she had gotten in the water. He nervously licked his lips when he felt her moving behind him. He closed his eyes.

"It's not fair to tease me, you know," he breathed.

"It is not teasing if I want you to look," she said gently. "You never undress me. Never touch me beyond my back or my stomach. Except for between my legs, when you're pleasuring me, of course."

His face flushed. She took his hand in hers. He grew stiff and she paused, but when he didn't yank his hand back, he could swear he heard her smile as she spoke. "Why is that, _Shur'tugal_?"

He felt a chill when she said it, breathlessly, wantonly. "You know why?" he said, his voice gruff with lust, his body shaking as she placed his hand on her stomach.

"Tell me anyway."

She sounded needy, the same tone she would get when she was aroused. He felt his body begin to respond at the low sound, and he was too weak to disobey her.

He wrapped his arms around her frame, feeling the scars on her body as his hands ran up her back, pulling her into him. Her bare body, flush against his. He almost opened his eyes, but there was a thrill about them being closed. To know without seeing. To let his imagination fly. To imagine, clothed or not, how absolutely perfect she would look.

One hand reached for her cheek, picturing her face. His lips found hers, brushing against them teasingly, the barest of kisses as he said, "Because if I do, I will have you for myself. All of you. I wouldn't stop unless you told me to. And you would not tell me to."

He could feel her lips stretch into a smile. "You think me so nefarious?"

"Why else are you pressed up against me?"

She chuckled. "Fair enough, rider. Fair enough."

She pulled away and Murtagh felt a twinge of regret as she left. But he knew it was for the best. He waited until he heard the water move, and gave himself a few more moments before turning around. Hal gave him a playful, knowing smirk from the water, wading silently, ripples fanning out around her. Murtagh smiled as he watched her, their eyes never breaking contact. He felt heat pooling in his stomach, feeling just as much predator as he did prey.

Dammit all.

He began yanking off his boots and Hal burst out laughing. The sound was pure and bright, and he only undressed faster. "Turn around, you sneaky little pervert," he teased.

"I suppose we'd be at just as much risk if I saw you naked as you did me."

"More so. Your lack of self-control around me is astounding."

"I cannot argue with that. Especially when that mouth of yours continues to be my undoing."

He nearly slipped and fell at her words.

When he finally waded into the water, Hal turned, grinning as he swam over to meet her. The river was not quite as deep as he thought it to be, his toes just touching the bottom. But floating was easier than straining his feet. Hal wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him slowly. He felt flush at the feel of her skin against his, even underwater. She was soft, like a something out of a dream.

"Say it again," he whispered.

The world around them was peacefully quiet, a strange contrast after all they had just endured. And it was perfect, because in the absence of noise, Murtagh could not hear anything else except for Hal when she said, "I love you."

He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. They sounded so beautiful. And they were his, and his alone, to cherish. "Hmm, again."

"I love you."

"Again."

She smiled. Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Teasing, slowly deepening the kiss. His heart raced in anticipation and want and he struggled to catch his breath. She pulled away. "I love you, Murtagh Morzansson. With all that am."

He kissed her again, this time until they were both breathless and dizzy. When he pulled away, he smiled.

"Again."

…

By the time they emerged from the water, wrinkled and shivering at the slight chill in the air, Hal felt more herself than she had expected. It wasn't just getting clean, she knew. It was him. Murtagh's presence, the very sight of him, her tongue buzzing at the number of times she had told him she loved him. It felt like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. They dried off with their backs to each other, but Hal dared sneak a peek over her shoulder as she finished getting dressed before him.

The first thing she saw was the scar Morzan gave him. It glowed menacingly in the moonlight, a heartbreaking sight even after all this time. But her eyes drifted lower and she grinned, trying not to laugh as she observed his bare buttocks for her viewing pleasure. He fumbled with his clothes — trying to fix his pants that had gone inside out when he yanked them off in his rush to get to her — completely oblivious to her gaze.

Hal turned towards him, setting her boots back down on the ground quietly. She wasn't quite sure what was possessing her, but she longed to touch him. To press her lips against his skin. Maybe it was the way he had asked her to repeat that she loved him. As if he expected her answer to change. Three little words he had never been told. Not by a parent or friend, not by a sibling or lover. She wanted to reach out to him, fully demonstrate how much she meant what she had said.

She hesitated, feeling a new weight in her body. To be with him now would hold new meaning for her. And she knew she could never go back. That frightened and thrilled her. But it wasn't about her, she knew. It was about him, about Murtagh. And she knew that from this point forward, she would do whatever it took to see him happy.

She laid her hands against his back. She was just tall enough to kiss the top of his scar and he tensed when she did. He didn't speak nor stop her. Hal ran her lips down his scar, tender kisses on a twisted reminder of his past. She took her time, moving slowly, pouring love and affection into every kiss. She could not change his past. Could not heal his wounds. And even if she could, it would not change his memory of them.

But she could give him new memories, sweet memories on top of the painful ones. Let the same skin that had been torn open by Zar'roc, burned with hot claws, whipped, beaten, branded, and hated now know nothing but her love. She kissed every inch of every scar on his back. And when she was done, she drifted to his front and did the same thing there. Her touch was not meant to be seductive or teasing. Only loving and kind.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Hal laid her head on his chest. Harsh realities awaited them, but all she wanted was to hold on to this moment for a little bit longer. Murtagh's fingers graced her cheek, pulling her head up before sliding and tangling themselves in her damp hair. His gaze is a mix of sadness and love, but there's no mistaking the worry there as well. And she knows it's worry for her.

She stands on her toes to close the distance between them, kissing him in the hopes that it would ease the tension between his brows some. He moves to take her face between both hands, immediately responding. There's a quiet hunger and desperation in the way his lips move against hers, and it would be frightening in its intensity if it wasn't also so all-consuming.

"I love you," Hal whispered against his lips as they took a moment to catch their breaths. It still threatened to knock her off balance, the weight and power of three, small words. Yet she felt no fear when she said them. Not when she saw how the words seemed to fill Murtagh, lighting the shadow behind his eyes and turning his cheeks pink with pleasure.

"I love you, too, Hal." He kissed her lips once more, then her forehead. Hal buzzed with delight at the care and tenderness, the gestures seemingly different even though Murtagh's tendency to show her affection was long-standing.

When they finally returned to the campsite, Invidia gave them both a wane smile, and Thorn only looked up, as a passing acknowledgement, from his meal. There was a weight, a tension in the air. Hal could feel it as Murtagh kissed her cheek before sitting down by the fire. Stiff. Like no one knew what to say now that they were here.

"Get some rest," Invidia said after a while of everyone stewing in silence. "We will leave early in the morning for Illium." She looked briefly at Hal, then looked away. "Do not plan to stay long."

Hal felt herself sway in her spot, but she did not otherwise react or respond. "I'll take first watch," Murtagh said, sounding equally pained at Invidia's instructions.

"No," Hal said suddenly. "I'll do it."

"Hal —"

"I've slept long enough," she said in a low voice, giving him an assured smile to ease his obvious nerves. He still seemed skeptical, as did Invidia, but they both eventually settled down with their backs to Hal, Murtagh curled against Thorn while Invidia curled up near the fire. Hal sat there and listened. She could hear their tense and tightened breaths eventually begin to slow, becoming even and smooth as they drifted. Their hearts became regular, just as relaxed as they fell asleep.

It took Hal a moment to realize that she could hear such things from where she sat, and she started in disbelief. She licked her lips nervously, the noise unfamiliar and rather intrusive, she felt, for everyone involved. She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the noise. Trying to pretend that she was as normal as she ever was. Because just for a moment, she had forgotten that she had not been brought back from the brink of death without repercussions. Without sacrifice. She hadn't actually stopped to process that she was a Shade. Perhaps some new breed of it, but still a Shade all the same.

Inhuman.

She felt her eyes burn with tears. She could still feel her heart beat in her chest, which seemed so human in nature. She couldn't remember if anyone had ever mentioned if a normal Shade would have a heartbeat or not. She rose carefully to her feet, her footsteps even quieter than they had been before. She did not stray far from the camp, only moving to the edge of the lake where the fire did not reach. Where she could let her tears fall in darkness, no one the wiser.

She gazed down at her hands, a fleeting memory of a bright light coming out of them when she had attacked Thea. Would that be common for her now, or was it simply her body not have adjusted yet to the presence of the spirits? Like a torch that still smoked even after the flame was put out. The more questions she had, the greater disconnect and distance she felt from herself. It was like realizing she could use magic all over again: she did not trust this body or herself. But this time, there was no one to teach her what this meant or how to use or control it. Once again, Hal was all alone.

Hal kept watch the entire night. She hardly felt tired, only immensely bored. She hadn't meant to do it. But when it came time to wake someone to switch, Hal was still awake. And everyone was sleeping so soundly she thought she'd give them another hour. Then that hour became two. Then three. And as the sky began to grow light, she realized that this would be her body now, and she would have to find new markers to indicate when she was exhausted or exerting herself.

She picked up the hand-and-a-half sword that Murtagh or Invidia must have brought back with them. She unsheathed it quietly and returned to her spot by the lake. It felt almost weightless in her hand as she held it. She rotated her wrists, watching the blade cut through the air at a pace too fast for any human eye to properly track. But Hal's eyes followed it with ease, not even realizing how much faster she was moving.

She began running through her drills, recalling her lessons and sparring sessions as she moved through the footwork. The sword felt like it was made of wood, it felt so light in her hands. Hal could hear the others begin to wake up, their eyes on her, but she kept practicing, her back to them to avoid feeling rather embarrassed for practicing on her own.

She could easily differentiate Murtagh's steps from Invidia's as they rose to their feet, as Invidia moved with an ease and gracefulness that Hal did. And it was Invidia who walked closer, her steps breaking into a run as if to strike.

Hal pivoted on her foot and met Invidia's sword in the air, braced for the weight behind the attack. But Hal did not budge as she normally did when fighting the elf. Her arm remained steady, and Invidia did not seem to stumble at the new strength in her pupil.

Murtagh kept a careful distance, eyes wide as the two women parried blows back and forth, striking then dodging, thrusting and spinning, with strength and grace that could only be found in an elf or Shade. There were moments where Hal could feel her work was a tad bit sloppier than it had been before, her body not yet accustomed to the unnatural speed and strength with which she could now fight. She would have to practice harder to get used to that as well. She no longer knew her own limits or strengths. She would basically have to start from scratch all over again.

Hal knew they did not have the time to fight for a much longer period of time than she would have liked — to really begin testing out what she was currently capable of. Invidia must've reached the same conclusion because they both slowed to a stop almost at the same time, their breaths slightly hitched.

But Invidia didn't smile when they backed away from each other like she had begun to when the sparred previously.

"I supposed I'm not surprised that you are stronger and faster than you were," she commented, her voice and expression almost unreadable. She sheathed her blade. "Do not forget that Halen."

Hal stood there, gritting her teeth to hide her frustrations as Invidia began to walk away. Did she think Hal didn't know? Did she think her gloating or ignorant?

"Is that really all you have to say?!" Hal snapped back, indignant.

Murtagh's expression was pained as Invidia turned. There was sorrow in her eyes. "Do not misunderstand me, Halen: I know you didn't wish for this. I know this is not your fault. But all the same, I had been anticipating the moment where we would become equals. I just never thought it would be like this."

Hal felt like Invidia had just slapped her, even if her words had not been cruel. She closed her eyes, her throat growing tight at the weight of Invidia's words. She had thought that much of her progress? Hal had been thinking she was getting stronger. And now that she thought about it, Hal had been thinking of that day too. Where she would square off against Murtagh and beat him. She was not sure if she could ever beat Invidia, but the fact that the elf had thought enough of Hal that she thought they would one day become equals?

It never occurred to Hal to think, of what all she had stood to lose now that she was no longer human.

…

"Was that really necessary?!" Murtagh's voice was low with fury, torn between running to Hal or stalking after Invidia, which he did with his fingers curled tightly into fists.

"Was what necessary, _Shur'tugal_?"

"You think Hal less of a swordsman now that she's a —"

But the word got stuck in his throat. And Invidia turned on him. "You can't even say it."

"That's not the point —"

"It very much is the point, Morzansson. When it comes to the struggles of her life, not once has Halen been grounded in the reality of her situation."

"That's not true," he said tightly, reflexively, knowing it was a lie but still feeling the need to defend Hal.

"It is and you know it. From what I have come to understand about her, the last twelve years of her life have been spent blocking out the painful memory of her past. And I'm not saying she was wrong for that — I can't even imagine the toll that would have taken on her otherwise, especially as a child. But she cannot ignore it any longer. She cannot hide away and conveniently block the truth from her memory in order to lessen the sting of it. Nor can you."

Invidia stepped forward, her expression softening even though the pain was still there in her eyes. "We were fortunate, Murtagh. She should be dead or worse. She was spared, and so were we. But at what cost? If Halen had turned, you let her go free." Murtagh's jaw was tight. "She could have laid waste to you, and Thorn, and me, and her people, and that would have been on you.

"She is a Shade. At the end of the day, that is fact. She will be stronger than us, physically and magically. She may not see it now, but she will. And assuming she will hold true to all of the traits of a Shade, she will also outlive the people of her village. She will not age as they do. And I know she will not be able to bear that kind of loneliness when she has to bury her friends. But she cannot integrate herself into any city or town or village. The very nature of what she is, is grounds for immediate, onsite execution. Even if she does not look like a Shade, that will only mean people will fear her more. They will think she is a spy, a new breed of Shade that can look like your family, your friends, your neighbors. Her existence will sow mistrust and chaos. The woman who has sought nothing but joy and peace for others must prepare herself for a life of hatred and suspicion."

Murtagh closed his eyes, beginning to cry as he listened. She would have to live like he did. Always looking over her shoulder. Never letting anyone get to close. Always on the move. Lying to preserve her own life. Possibly even killing. Invidia was right: no one with Hal's compassion deserved such a fate. But he could see no other way.

"She will live a cursed life from this day forward," Invidia continued in a soft voice. "There is no nice way of saying it. I cannot prepare her for that —"

"But I can," Murtagh said in a low voice. He opened his eyes and saw Invidia eyeing him slowly, but not with surprise. He slowly nodded his head. "You are right. I cannot protect her from the opinions and actions of others. I cannot protect her from the harsh realities of her new existence. But I can protect her. She is a Shade, yes. And it is…hard for me to accept. But I will accept it. Because she is also still Halen. She still smiles as she did. And her love for me does not mean any less, and my love for her will only grow stronger. She is still Halen because she chose to fight rather than succumb to the wishes of Thea. And I will always fight for her, as she did for me."

Invidia smiled, her lips slowly stretching in relief. And for a moment, Murtagh wondered if she had feared that his feelings for Hal would have changed with this new development. As she nodded her head in agreement, she said, "I could not agree with you more, Murtagh Morzansson." She lifted her chin, as if appraising him. "You are strong and sound of mind, body, and soul. The life you have led thus far has been an unfortunate one. Only one who has been outcasted before can truly know what she is about to face. But I see now, that perhaps it was not all in vain."

Murtagh looked over his shoulder and Invidia followed suit. Hal was watching them, eyes troubled as she tried to pick-up on what they were saying. Murtagh felt his chest tighten at the sight. His mind was still swimming, still processing what still seemed a figment of a bad dream. But as Hal's gaze met his, he felt his expression soften and his resolve harden.

"No," he agreed, something calming filling him. "No, it was not."

…

Hal stood outside her childhood home one last time. There wasn't much to it anymore. The wood had rotted in places, and leaves and ivy grew in others. The roof had collapsed inward, likely from being torched, but it hadn't been completely burned down. Hal suspected a rain came early the following morning and put it out. It was destroyed now. And there was nothing she could do about it. The house her father had built with his bare hands, gone.

Walking through the remains of her village, Hal kept expecting to see blood, bodies, and decay. Instead, all she could see were the new signs of life as the forest took back what had once belonged to it. And if she had to choose a proper end to her village, she felt that was the best one. But it had pained her to think of all those lives lost. No goodbyes. No burials. No one to remember them, except Hal.

She stepped away from her home. She had no desire to go inside. To torment herself any longer over a past she could not change. She had chosen to forget so that she could find peace. But she had done her people a great disservice. She had not thought to write down any traditions, or sketch an image of her family. She had forgotten words to her mother's lullaby and her father's tips for surviving a storm when out at sea. She would have no dowry if she married, no artifacts or stories to pass down to her children.

She had forgotten the rich culture of her village. And when she died, there would no one left to remember it. But starting now, she would not forget their sacrifice. She would not forget how they had led Murtagh to her on multiple occasions, saving her life. How they had stayed by her side in that tunnel, reminding her she was never alone. She would not forget how they had collectively tried to fight against the Shade to protect her.

They had fought for her in life and in death. And she would do everything in her power to make sure their sacrifices were never forgotten. She would make sure her people had not died in vain.

But as she stared up at the quaint little house, she thought of the other little girl who had once called it home. As much as she feared Thea, as much as she knew she had to be stopped, Hal could not hate what she had become. Such different lives they had led. How easily the roles could have been reversed. Hal didn't know how she would stop Thea, but she had to try. But did she really have to kill her to do it?

"Invidia and Thorn are ready to go."

Hal looked over her shoulder as Murtagh came to stand beside her. As she turned to face him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him, kissing her soundly. She felt selfish and greedy, kissing him back with such fervor. But any sign from him that his feelings had not changed despite what she had become, she latched on to with desperation. Not just because it meant he did not fear or loathe her existence, but also because she still responded to his touch, his gazes, his presence and proximity. And she clung to such human emotions with everything that she had. She felt her eyes fill with tears, spilling over onto her cheeks.

"I cannot ask you to do this," she breathed. "I cannot ask you to leave the Tenari because of me. It's your home."

"It was my home because you were there," he said, his voice and gaze soft. "I love our people, and our island. But I told you before: wherever you are, is where I want to be. Whatever you must endure so that we may stop Thea, we will endure it together."

"And does it not bother you? What I have become?"

His smile was full of such love and devotion that Hal had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing. He leaned his forehead against her. "You have always been stronger than me. As far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed."

She could not help but laugh at that. Hal pulled his head down, her heart racing madly in her chest as they kissed. Unexpectedly, his grip became tighter as he suddenly pulled away. He inhaled sharply as if surprised, and Hal frowned. The blood instantly drained from his face. "Murtagh?"

His voice was hollow as he spoke. "My wards around the village just went off. The Ra'zac are preparing to attack."


	44. Chapter 44: The Shield That Was Broken

Murtagh had never thought to consider himself a man with much to lose. Many may have pitied him for such a bleak existence, but it was one that had come to grow on him. If he had grown attached to someone, it was never for long. Even before Tornac had died, he had learned to live with his loneliness. Thorn had been his longest, most constant companion since. And the only one whose safety and wellbeing had truly mattered more than Murtagh's own. Nasuada had come close, but even he had been able to let her go.

Then he had met Hal.

And he had come to love her.

And he had met the Tenari.

And he had come to love them.

So there was no precedent for the sickness that held him as Thorn flew as fast as he could back home. He didn't know what he was feeling. Like he was going to throw-up. Like he hoped he was dreaming. Like it was all a mistake. Like he feared for the worst. And all of these feelings created a numbness in his heart, a stillness in his head. There were no thoughts. He had no plan. There were no words. It was just emptiness and desperation.

But carrying three of them, Thorn moved somewhat slower. Murtagh could feel the dragon straining against the wind, against his very nature and size and being, to try and hurl himself across the water at speeds that, even when he was truly fully grown, he probably could not reach. But it was not his fault. Everything, right now, felt slow.

As they grew closer to Illium, Hal made a low sound in the back of her throat like a wounded animal. There was smoke wafting above the trees, already thick. Too long. It was taking them too long.

But no matter how long it took, it wasn't enough time to prepare him for what they saw when they finally arrived.

It was mayhem on the ground below, people running and screaming in every direction. Murtagh could not count the number of Ra'zac present but, at first glance, there did not seem to be as many as what attacked Berjis' village. But with much less protection, the damage was just as bad, if not worse. Already there were bodies on the ground, some screaming and wailing in pain from their injuries. The wind blew the smoke towards them, only just covering the stench of blood. Murtagh couldn't comprehend it, the sharp contrast of how they had left the village with the carnage before him now. He had seen plenty of battles up close. But this was a slaughter that turned his stomach inside out. His hand was shaking long before he yanked Zar'roc free, his mouth twisted in a grimace, his grief warping into blind hatred and fury unlike anything he had ever felt. Thea had done this. First Hal, and now her village.

Thorn flew low, snatching a Ra'zac of the ground and tearing it apart with his teeth. The creature let out an agonized scream only moments before it met its end. Some people pointed with delight, cheering in relief as the dragon landed and released a roar that shook the ground and air around them. Hal, Murtagh, and Invidia jumped off, weapons drawn.

But it quickly became Hal who was the force to be reckoned with.

At Thorn's roar, and at Hal's scent, just like before, more Ra'zac came running towards them. Hal let loose a scream, her voice cracking in pain as her sword moved in a blur, cutting down Ra'zac without hesitation. He felt the air move as she called on her magic and watched as she raised her hand towards one Ra'zac chasing down a young woman. The creature froze, then Hal tightened her hand into a fist. And just like the first Ra'zac she ever killed, this one exploded at the force of her magic without her even uttering a single word of the Ancient Language.

Murtagh shivered.

She kept moving, and Murtagh only had a moment to notice her eyes. They were wild, mad with rage and desperation unlike anything he had ever seen, tears streaming down her cheeks while her mouth was twisted in a sneer.

And one was red.

"HAL!"

But she took off running, and Murtagh could only follow after her. _Murtagh_ — Thorn began.

 _Stay with Invidia, take out any Ra'zac you can. Protect the village, that is your priority right now. I have to go after Hal. I know where she's going, and if we do not stop her, she may still yet turn._

Thorn read his mind and he felt the dragon begin to panic. _I should be with you!_

 _No! Stay with Invidia, please. Save as many as you can. Please._

Thorn roared again, hating their predicament. But Murtagh didn't have time to argue, his own panic and fear seizing him as he tried to follow after Hal.

They ran into more Ra'zac than he would have expected, and he realized it was because people had congregated in the center of the village, unable to escape from the Ra'zac that had them surrounded. One jumped from the top of hut, towards the group and Murtagh threw his sword with all his might. It rotated once, twice, then impaled the Ra'zac in the head. People screamed in surprise.

He rushed forward and yanked out his blade. Hal alone took care of the others, using a mix of magic and her blade to dangerous affect.

"MURTAGH!"

Ayo rushed forward, clutching his shoulder which was bleeding profusely. "Dammit, am I glad to see you."

"How many?"

"Not sure. I don't think more than a dozen or so, but they started attacking out of nowhere. Blödhgarm is the only reason the casualties aren't worse. He took as many on at once as he could, but some pale-faced woman attacked him out of nowhere. He's injured, but I think he's still around here somewhere fighting." Ayo looked around. "Is Hal with you?"

Murtagh swore, having forgotten. He looked around but there was no sign of her. "Ayo, tell me, have you seen Denu?"

The man's face went slack with panic and understanding. "No."

Murtagh swore again and took off running, Ayo shouting behind him. Blood was pounding in his ears as they reached where the attack must have originated. There were more bodies, men, women, and children. The ground was slick with their blood, and Murtagh forced himself not to look down, his throat tight. The woods around them were blazing with the source of the fire, the smoke thick, burning Murtagh's eyes and lungs. He could not fathom the purpose of it, except to get Hal's attention from a distance. The fire was currently only damaging the forest, not the village itself. At least not yet. He covered his mouth with his tunic.

But as he turned the corner, he a voice suddenly called out.

"STOP!"

It was Hal who had screamed, and Murtagh was suddenly frozen mid-step just as he took in the scene before him. But not because he himself had stopped moving. Magic had immobilized him. But who? How? His eyes were wide with disbelief, Hal with her back to him, Thea not even bothering to look at him. And it took him a moment to realize it must've been Hal who had done it — she knew his footsteps better than any and would know it was he who approached. But why make it so he can't move? He was an open target for the Shade now.

And speaking of…

Thea stood there, Denu standing in front of her, one arm twisted behind his back. His eyes wide with panic at the sound of Hals's voice. "Get back, Halen, it's a tra —"

He screamed in pain and Murtagh screamed at the sight of the man in such agony. Hal hurled magic at Thea but it bounced off a shield Murtagh hadn't noticed, thrown back at Hal who barely managed to block it with a shield of her own. Eyes blazing with determination, Thea held up her hand, bloodied with Denu's finger that she had cut from his body.

"I told you that I would lay your island to waste," she seethed, ignoring Hal as she threw herself at Thea. But she hit the shield and was thrown back even further. "And since the spirits weren't around to protect your village or keep me trapped on that godsforsaken island, finding this place was easy." Murtagh shouted for Hal to release him but even though his mouth was moving, he realized no sound was coming out. Hal hadn't just made it so that he couldn't move.

She made it so he couldn't be heard. Or seen.

By Thea.

Furious with her, he shouted and swore, calling on the Name of Names to try and figure out how to break her wards before it was too late.

Denu screamed again and Thea tossed him to the ground as if in disgust. His wrist was grotesquely twisted, broken. Thea planted a boot on his back and Hal finally stopped fighting.

"Thea, I am begging you," Hal seethed, her cheeks stained with soot and tears. "Let. Him. Go. Please, he is a good man. An innocent man. Do not do this, please do not do this."

"Or you'll what? You may be a Shade but I am still stronger than you. I _will_ turn you. I will unlock your hate and your rage and I will do it by taking the one person in the world you would die to protect."

"Thea stop — NO!"

Denu gasped as Thea stomped on his back. Murtagh felt his chest squeeze, his magic released in shock. Hal screamed again, but this time, she must've used magic again, because Thea threw out her hand as if to catch it, and the force of it would have blown Murtagh back had he not been trapped by Hal's magic. His eyes were wide with fear and disbelief as the ground cracked in the center of where their magic met, as if the world itself was being split apart.

"You lied to me," Thea continued, her voice suddenly becoming hauntingly low. Hatred tinged with…fear. Sadness. "You promised nothing bad would happen to us."

"Thea," Hal crooned, her voice breaking. "Please."

"You left me —"

"No —"

"You forgot us. Replaced us. And all the while you were here living your life, I was turned into a monster!"

"It's _my_ fault. I did this, Thea. So please, please, punish me. Take me. Break me. Kill me. Just leave this village alone. Please. Do not let the Tenari suffer as our people did. No one deserves this. Except me. I am _begging_ you to spare them, please."

Murtagh screamed, but his voice was lost in the void.

Thea only looked disgusted.

"I'll go with you," Hal continued, her voice inching towards hysteria and desperation. "I'll go with you. We can be together. You can still have a life of your own. We'll go far away, where no one can bother us. No one can find us." Murtagh felt his heart seize. No! He couldn't lose Hal, not like this. "No one can hate us or fear us or attack us. It'll be just like it was when we were little. And I will protect you. I'm stronger now than I was before. Just please, stop this. Do not let another village burn as ours did."

Thea swallowed. "How can I trust anything you have to say." And then, to Murtagh's astonishment, the Shade began to cry like a child. "Why didn't they protect me? They lied to me. Turned me. Our people never sought to spare me as they have fought to spare you!"

"They would have. Thea, our father gave his life to protect you just as our mother gave hers to protect me. You know if they had any idea of how to save you they would have —"

"LIAR!"

The air around them cackled and hummed with a renewed energy. Murtagh felt like the air was thinning around him. Like Thea was literally sucking it all up. "You abandoned me. You _left_ me. You didn't care about me then. And you don't care about me now. You care about this pathetic little surrogate village. And I will make sure you know how it feels to have your heart crushed by the foot of your oppressor."

Neither Shade was releasing their magic, a vein throbbing in Thea's temple at the exertion while Hal screamed and screamed and screamed in desperation. The air around them felt heavy, and Murtagh felt like he was struggling to breathe. Or was it the smoke from the fire? It was worsening, the wind picking up around them. Whatever was happening, not even Hal's shield was strong enough to keep out the effects. And if Murtagh couldn't get to his magic in time…

Thea grinned.

 _Halen, let go!_ Murtagh screamed with his mind, hurling the thought towards her in the hopes it would reach. _Halen, let me go!_

But she either could not hear him, or she refused to listen.

Thea stomped on Denu's back again. Murtagh's screams were silenced by the magic.

The toll of holding on to so much magic along with her duress forced Hal to her knees. But Murtagh could tell she was still trying to push through. She crawled towards Denu, moving as if she were fighting against a gale of wind. She was digging her fingers into the hard ground, tearing up her nails and leaving behind a bloody trail.

It was obvious Thea was gaining the upper hand as Hal was practically flattened to her stomach, struggling to reach Denu, her cries of pain catching in the currents surrounding the fight. Denu struggled to lift his head, and Murtagh could've sworn the old man's unseeing eyes flickered this way, blood dripping out of his mouth as it filled his lungs from the damage.

He smiled.

And both Murtagh and Hal screamed as Thea brought her foot down one last time, shattering his ribs and crushing the heart underneath.

And the world around them exploded.

…

 _"_ _You want to stay in our village?"_

 _Murtagh swallowed, feeling rather embarrassed as he kneeled before Denu, even though the man couldn't see it, to humbly ask to make his presence in the village permanent. "Aye, if you will have me."_

 _Denu inhaled slowly. "And, may I ask, why you are suddenly deciding to stay?"_

 _"_ _Because of Hal."_

 _"_ _Oh."_

 _The one word held with it a surprising weight, and Murtagh's face burned. "I don't mean — not to imply that we're — we're not —"_

 _But Denu's face broke into a broad smile and he began to laugh. Murtagh stared in disbelief and confusion as the old man cackled with glee. When he finally calmed down, Murtagh's face was beet red, confident he had certainly spoiled his chances of remaining now._

 _"_ _I tell you, when I first met you, I would not have guessed you were capable of being so inarticulate. I did not mean to tease or make you nervous, Murtagh, I was merely having fun."_

 _"_ _You're as mean as Hal, then."_

 _The old man chuckled at that. He tilted his head, observing Murtagh quietly in a way only he could. "Rise, Dragon Rider. There are no kings or nobles here. You do not need to kneel before me."_

 _Shakily, he got to his feet, and he moved as Denu patted the space beside him on his cot. Murtagh sat down, surprisingly terrified and unsure of what to expect. He couldn't recall the last time he had wanted something so badly that the thought of not getting it actually pained him._

 _"_ _Halen is convinced you want to go east," Denu finally said after a bout of silence._

 _"_ _I wanted to."_

 _"_ _And now you do not."_

 _"_ _No."_

 _"_ _Because of Halen?"_

 _Murtagh blushed again. "More or less. She has a way of finding joy and life in the littlest of things. And in my time here, seeing the island and this village through her eyes, I have realized that I have come to find joy and life here as well."_

 _Denu nodded. "I have noticed that. You are not the same man you were when Halen first brought you here."_

 _Murtagh noted how proud the man sounded and he felt himself become dazed with emotion. "Thank you."_

 _"_ _No. Thank you, for being the bigger man than I."_

 _He frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _I was harsh to you, when you first arrived. I was worried about your past and said things to you or about you that I should not have said."_

 _"_ _You weren't wrong to be concerned."_

 _"_ _But I was wrong in how I expressed my concern. I misjudged you unfairly. And I never properly apologized for my transgressions against you. So, I will only allow you to remain as part of our village, if you humbly accept this old man's apology, for his foolish mistake."_

 _Denu bowed his head respectfully and Murtagh stared in disbelief._

 _"_ _You have cared for my people like they were your own," Denu continued. "You have cared for Halen even more so. And the happiness you have brought her, the friendship you have blessed her with, means more to me than life itself. She would be devastated to see you go." Denu raised his head and smiled brightly. "And so would I."_

Murtagh gasped, shuddering as he struggled to catch his breath. Blödhgarm was standing over him and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that Murtagh was awake. But he jumped to his feet, ignoring the elf who tried to warn him against such sudden movements. Thorn was standing in front of him, blocking his view, his head bowed in grief.

Murtagh knew what he would see as he ran around the dragon, pushing through the small crowd of people that had gathered. He spotted Amon, clutching Tena and sobbing hysterically as she cried quietly, running her hand down his back. He saw Invidia, who caught his gaze then looked away. He saw Cado, his head bowed as tears ran down his cheeks. Everyone was in a state of shock or grief, and the crowd became awkwardly parted at the large crack in the ground, big enough for a small child to fall through.

Only then did Murtagh realize none of the nearby huts remained. There was nothing but rubble where they once stood, destroyed by the effects of the magic. The air was still tinged with smoke, but the blast that had knocked him out cold seemed to have destroyed the blaze as well.

When he finally pushed through the crowd, he felt his body go limp and he dropped to the ground as he cried out in anguish.

Hal's eyes lifted to meet his, having returned to their regular, brown hue. But in them was nothing. No anger. No rage. No hatred. No love. No fear. No anguish. No grief. No remorse.

Nothing.

They were empty, looking at him without seeing. She didn't cry. Didn't utter a sound. She just…was.

Cradled, in her lap, was Denu's body.

She did not acknowledge Murtagh as he wept. Only lowered her head back down to the man in her arms.

 _You know I think of you as my son, don't you?_

This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. The village was meant to be safe. Shielded and protected. He had loved this village for its innocence, its peace. That the people here could smile and laugh because they had not had to endure such devastation.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to deal with his grief.

His vision was blurry, but he felt a small hand in his and looked up to find Layla reaching for him. She looked scared, her eyes red. But something about seeing her face broke something in him. He wrapped his arms around her tiny body and pulled her into his chest, sobbing hysterically. Part of it, he knew, was relief that she was okay. But he looked at her, and only thought of what nightmares could haunt her now where there hadn't been any before. How it could have just as easily been her, or everyone. He still did not know the full extent of the damage. And he was afraid to know. Afraid to know what hell had wrought upon the once quiet and peaceful village he had come to call home.

…

Murtagh wasn't sure when he was pulled to his feet. He tried to fight it — he didn't want to leave Hal. But his body had no fight left. He was exhausted, mentally more than physically. He must've passed out because when he woke up, it was later in the day, the sun beginning to set. There was a cool rag pressed to his head. Tears filled his eyes immediately, the ache in his body and heart reminding him of what was real, and what he stood to face when he walked out.

He climbed steadily to his feet as he stepped out of the room. He was in Sam's hut, he realized, closer to the center of the village. Murtagh realized with dismay that Amon and Tena's hut had been one of the ones destroyed in the fight between Hal and Thea.

When he stepped outside, Amon, Sam, Ayo, Cado, and Eli were standing nearby as if they'd been waiting for him. They weren't talking much, but they tried to smile when they spotted him. Despite his grief, Murtagh hugged each man tightly, glad to see that they were all right despite the bandages, cuts, and bruising on their bodies. And as he was hugged tightly in return, he felt shame and tears fill his eyes. He should've been here. He should've done more to protect the village.

As if they'd been waiting to at least see that he was okay, everyone but Amon tilted their heads and parted in silence. Murtagh felt like his world was shattering. He looked at Amon, whose arms were crossed over his chest. He had a bandage on his cheek and his arm was tightly wrapped, but other than dirt and blood on his clothes, he appeared fine.

"How bad?" Murtagh asked, his voice cracked and hollow.

Amon's lip trembled briefly before he took a shuddering breath. "As of right now, nearly 100 or so people are dead, even more injured. But folks are still missing. We should know for sure by morning."

"Your family —?"

"The children are safe, as is Tena." He cleared his throat, a single tear running down his cheek. "My old man and woman didn't make it though. Eren found them."

Murtagh's closed his eyes in horror that a child had to see his grandparents like that. "Amon, I'm so sorry."

Amon shook his head. "You didn't do this." He reached out and patted Murtagh's shoulder warily. "You didn't do this," he repeated. "I'm just glad you got back when you did. If you hadn't…"

"And Hal?"

Amon squeezed his eyes shut, the tears running faster. He just shook his head.

Murtagh felt like he was stumbling blindly through a fog. People were sobbing around him, some being held, some over the bodies of loved ones they had lost, sheets covering them until they could be moved and prepared for burial. Everyone looked frightened and confused. And rightfully so.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Thorn had remained by Hal's side, and Murtagh felt his chest swell just a bit at the sight. He was grateful that Thorn had been there for Hal when Murtagh wasn't able to. Even if all he could do was sit there and watch.

She had not moved, still clutching Denu's body tightly to her. Murtagh tried to approach her, but out of nowhere, Blödhgarm stepped in front of him, his face hard. "You shouldn't be up, _Shur'tugal_."

"Move." Murtagh had meant to sound intimidating, but instead his voice came out weak and unsure.

"You need to rest," Blödhgarm emphasized. In a lower voice, he added, "You basically took a direct hit from that blast of raw energy. You should be dead. Or at least gravely injured."

"I'm fine." But he wasn't. Not really.

Blödhgarm followed his gaze, his shoulders slumping as the fight left him. "She won't let anyone near. Not even any of the villagers."

"She's mourning!" Murtagh snapped, as if the very notion of anyone trying to approach negated that.

"As are we all," the elf said in a low voice. "But you and I both know that Halen's grief goes deeper than mourning. She nearly died, Murtagh. _You_ very well could have. And the only reason you both didn't was because…"

Blödhgarm looked pained, as if the thought alone was too much to bear. Murtagh turned away from Hal to look at him. "What happened?"

Blödhgarm just shook his head. "Not even a Shade can maintain more than one spell at a time. To attack or to defend. One the other, but not both. The toll of her attack on Thea nearly killed her. If she had not stopped when she had, it very well could have. She was exerting all of her efforts into it, wasting it. Thea was too strong. And then, at the last minute, Halen made a choice. She redirected her magic. To defend, instead of to attack." He turned to look at Hal. "It's like I said, Murtagh: you should be dead."


	45. Chapter 45: Oblivion

Hal was sinking, drowning. Slowly, but surely. She could see the glimmering light up ahead, the sun or moon reflective in the surface of the water. She didn't reach for it. Didn't care to. She just watched it, drifting further from it as the weight in her body naturally carried her further down. It steadily became darker around her, quieter.

Colder.

It felt so cold. Compressing in around her, suffocating. Unbearable. She had never felt anything like it before

No.

That wasn't true.

She had felt this coldness. Once. Before.

Twelve years ago.

Yes. She remembered. Sinking, drowning. Slowly, but surely. Just as she did now. And just as they had then, her limbs became locked from the cold. No longer able to move. No longer able to fight.

She just sunk.

The light above got farther and farther from view. She watched it with a sense of odd detachment. She knew there was something good in the light. Something important. Yet she felt no inclination to swim towards it. What was the point? She was already so far gone — she wouldn't make it anyway. She'd probably only grow tired and cramp up from trying to cover such a vast distance, and feel even worse when she began to sink again.

So, she stared at the light, dazzling and luminescent even from the shadows where she drifted. So pretty.

She wished she could touch it. Just one more time.

…

She could still see the light above her. She could've sworn it was calling to her. She wondered if she was being silly. Of course it wasn't calling to her. Something so beautiful couldn't possibly be for her.

She had fallen for that once before.

She wasn't going to fall for it again.

…

It was hard to tell underwater, but Hal was pretty sure she had begun to cry.

She didn't want to think about why she was so sad. She just wanted the pain to stop. She didn't want to feel like this anymore. Yet the light kept calling her name. And in a moment of weakness, in a desperate attempt to think it would rid this pain from her body, she reached for it.

She felt something grip her throat. A hand. Or a rope. She felt it snake across her forehead and across her stomach and chest. It wrapped itself around her wrists and ankles, slithered and tightened around her thighs and arms.

She reached for the light.

But the darkness held on tight, and pulled her even further down.

…

Someone else was here.

She couldn't see them, but she could feel them. But that didn't mean much. She couldn't see anything now. The light was gone. All light was gone. All she felt was cold and all she saw was dark.

But someone was there.

She wanted to call out, ask who was there. But she decided she didn't care. Perhaps they meant to end her drowning. Was it even still drowning anymore? She didn't know.

But this presence began to feel rather intrusive. Insistent.

Go away, she wanted to tell them.

Leave me alone.

 _I'm afraid I can't do that_.

Hal blinked. That voice. She felt as though she knew that voice. But the name and face escaped her. But…why did it feel so familiar? What was it doing here, of all places? Was it, like her, drifting aimlessly too?

 _Are you here to kill me_? Hal asked. She did not think she wanted to die. But she would very much like to stop sinking. She would very much like to stop hurting.

 _No. If you die, I would die as well._

Hal blinked in confusion. But how could that be? Was this her consciousness?

 _What are you doing?_ The voice asked, echoing in her mind, soft and kind. They spoke as if they had all the time in the world.

 _I'm not quite sure_ , Hal admitted. _I'm not sure of anything anymore._

 _Do you know who you are?_

Hal frowned. _I am Halen._ Just Halen now. She did not think she could be Zarasdaughter if there was no Zara. But she didn't want to get into that with the voice just now.

 _Are you sure?_

 _Yes. I am Halen._

 _Well, then you're sure of_ something. _And that's better than nothing. Although if you are sure you aren't sure about nothing, then I suppose you are still sure._

Huh? Actually, she didn't care to discern this nonsense. Hal was already tired of this conversation. _Go away._

 _I cannot._

 _And why is that?_

 _Because I am trapped here too. Wherever you go, I now too must go._ They paused. _Where are you from?_

 _It doesn't matter._

 _Are you lost?_

 _Go away._

 _I told you. I can't._

Something tugged at the back of her mind. The familiarity of that voice, once more. But something else now. Why? Was something wrong?

 _Where are you going_? The voice asked.

 _Nowhere. I have nowhere to go. So, to nowhere I belong._

 _I would much rather prefer it if you stayed with me. I admit I'd be rather worried if I let you go off on your own._

 _I don't want your company. Go away._

 _Perhaps then, we both can go to Nowhere. Together. How does that sound?_

 _I don't want to go with you. I want to go alone. Leave me alone._

Hal didn't want to think anymore. Didn't want to hear anymore. But she could not cover her ears. Why?

Why did this feel so familiar?

 _You sound like you're in pain_. The voice again. _Tell me, are you in pain?_

 _Why does it matter if I'm in pain? If you cannot see my pain, does that mean it does not exist?_

 _I'm afraid that I must admit, now that you mention it…I cannot see much of anything at all._

 _Because it is dark?_

 _For me, it is always dark. But you sound like you're in pain. Are you in pain?_

Hal hesitated. _Yes. I am._

 _I would like to help you, if you'll let me._

 _You just said you can't see because it's dark._

 _I have other ways of looking. I have a village, close by. We have a wonderful medicine man, a close friend of mine. He can very much see. I would like to take you to him, Halen from It Doesn't Matter._

 _No. I don't want to. Go away._

 _I told you. I can't._

Hal sank further into shadow and darkness. No more. She didn't want to hear anymore.

 _I'll make you a promise. Come with me, Halen. Let my medicine man treat you. Let us put food on your stomach. Rest awhile. And when you're strong enough to travel, you may continue on your way to Nowhere. How does that sound?_

 _Do you expect me to trust you?_

 _No. But I hope you will have faith._

No, make it stop.

 _How about this?_

No, please.

 _If it makes you feel any better, I will tell you my name._

Stop.

 _How will that make me feel better?_

 _Because you will know my name, and I will know yours. So, if I lie to you, you can curse me to the heavens, and they will find me, because they know my name. But I do not wish to be cursed by the gods, so I will not lie to you. Nor will I harm you. You will be safe with me._

Safe? That sounded nice. Food sounded even better. Her voice felt small as she asked, _You promise?_

No, stop!

 _I promise._

 _All right then, tell me your name._

NO!

 _My name is Denu Davidsson, Halen from It Doesn't Matter. And I am so delighted to meet you._

…

When Hal woke up, she felt a strange sort of disconnect from her body. She stared up at a dirt ceiling that didn't belong to her room. She knew those patterns and cracks like the back of her hand now. And she stared at this unfamiliar wall, her gaze distant yet concentrated. Like she could bring the roof crashing in on her if she tried.

 _If you die, I would die as well._

No — that didn't matter anymore. That only mattered so long as he was alive. And he wasn't. So, what was the point? All those years, fighting the urge to stop fighting, and it was all for nothing. She had done it all for him. Did he know that? He became her sole reason for existing. He made her smile. Made her happy. He was her light, her joy, her sun, her beating heart. He became the reason she got up in the morning. She wanted to make him smile. Make him happy. Make him laugh. Because she knew that she was his light, his joy, his sun, his beating heart.

But his heart had stopped beating.

And Hal did not know what to do with the broken remains of hers.

 _I'm not quite sure of anything anymore._

 _…_ _If you are sure you aren't sure about nothing, then I suppose you are still sure._

That didn't count. It was cheating. A loophole.

 _Do you know who you are?_

Not anymore, she didn't. Everything she was, she was because of him. So, if he was no more, than so was she.

 _If you die, I would die as well._

She was drifting aimlessly, just like in her dream. Sinking, slowly, surely. Time felt infinite yet it seemed to stop altogether. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, a final desperate attempt to cling to a past that no longer existed, in fear of a future that she did not want to exist at all.

Not without him. Not without Denu.

Denu.

Hal's vision blurred with tears.

Denu.

She felt her body begin to shake, releasing pent up energy and emotion that had been sitting there for days, waiting for Hal to finally come acknowledge her loss.

Denu.

She began to wail, the pain of her grief finally collapsing on top of her as if she really had brought the ceiling down. She wanted to hurt. She wanted to feel all the pain in the world she could possibly be made to feel. She slammed her fists repeatedly into the wall, kicking and screaming and trying to take the pain out of her chest and into anywhere else. She would rebreak her hand if she had to. What did she care? That would be nothing compared to her heart being ripped out of her chest and stomped on.

Repeatedly stomped on, again.

And again.

And again, until it was crushed and stopped beating altogether.

She felt hands grab her arms and practically yank her out of the bed, away from the wall. Away from her physical hurt. She screamed and kicked, crying and sobbing, hating. She didn't want to feel. She didn't want to feel anything anymore.

But why? Why did her heart still bleed and beat and pump and weep? Why did she?

 _If you cannot see my pain, does that mean it does not exist?_

But she knew the answer to that.

 _Halen_.

She paused, surprised to hear her name echo inside her head in a voice that did not belong to her or her subconscious.

 _Please. Come back to me._

She grew stiff, tense. No. There was nothing to go back to.

Right?

 _Leave me alone._

 _To me, Halen._

Her limbs grew limp. Don't fall for it, she told herself. It's another trap. There's nothing more for you here? Let go. Just let it all go. _Go away._

 _Fight, Halen. Please._

For what?

 _Fight._

 _Why?_

 _Because I need you._

 _No. No one needs me. Go away._

 _No. I told you, where you go, I go. I need you still. We all do._

 _We?_

 _Yes._

 _…_

 _…_

 _I couldn't save him._ And the words were a never-ending shame that she knew would always haunt her. A truth that cemented her weakness and her failure.

 _…_ _Nor could I._

 _I couldn't save him_ , Hal repeated, her mind becoming clearer, more focused as she remembered. _I couldn't save him._

 _I know, iet dunei. I know._

 _…_ _But I saved you._

 _Yes. Yes, you did._

 _I couldn't save him. But I saved you._

 _Yes._

Yes. She remembered now. The weight of the magic pressing down on her like stone. Crushing. Her body was giving out on her. She had exhausted too much of her energy trying to reach him. Trying to save Denu. Because she could not bear to see him in such agony.

Her attack was weakening.

But so were Thea's shields.

Hal knew she would have a split second to get in and save Denu. She had been so sure of it; she would just have to wait for the perfect moment. The moment the shields shattered, but just before Hal's magic rebounded as a result. That would be the time to strike.

And then Denu's eyes had flickered over her shoulder, as if he had known. She had shielded Murtagh from Thea before she had spotted him as he was about to come around the corner. Her attention had been so focused on Hal, and vice versa, that she had not realized that someone else was there.

Someone's whose death would be even more catastrophic for Hal.

And she had almost, in a single instant, forgotten. She had hidden Murtagh from Thea to keep him safe. Hal knew he would follow, had recognized his steps as he approached, but to see Thea when she had made the issue quite clear. Hal had reacted without thinking, distracting Thea while she hid Murtagh to keep him safe.

 _STOP!_ And with a single word, had made sure Murtagh had done just that.

And then she had nearly gotten him killed.

Had Denu not glanced at the rider — like he knew that wherever Hal was, Murtagh could not be far behind — there could have been multiple casualties.

And she knew then she could not save him.

But she would save Murtagh.

Hal somehow knew the attack wouldn't kill her outright, just like she knew it wouldn't kill Thea. And she managed to maintain the brunt of it within the vicinity. She hoped no one else had been nearby. But she dropped her attack and shielded Murtagh just as the world around them exploded.

Just as Denu had smiled. Just as Hal had let him go.

 _If I die, you live._

And he had died.

So that Murtagh may live.

So that at some point, Hal would remember to live again.

…

Murtagh had never been to a funeral. But if he had, it would have paled in comparison to Denu's.

The sky was dark, littered with stars although the moon was hidden behind clouds. It was still a beautiful night.

Denu's body had been carefully prepared, dressed in his finest robes, the colorful set, that his betrothed, Isa, had made for him for their wedding. Picking through the remains of their hut, Hal had quietly pulled it from the rubble and passed it to Tena, the message quite clear.

Now he lay on a bed of straw and wood, constructed by several of the villagers in a manner that resembled most of the funeral pyres. But as the village leader, Denu's was more ornate, patterns and animals carefully carved into the side.

Hal sat near the body, unblinking and emotionless, Denu's staff set across her lap. She held it tightly, the tips of her fingers white from the pressure. Otherwise, she said nothing. She hardly moved. The last several days had been painful. She had sat with the body in her lap for hours before Murtagh had finally had enough of the painful scene, and forced himself to get close enough to coax it from her. She had resisted. She didn't even seem present anymore. Then she had sat there until he returned, and he lifted her still form in his arms. Tena helped bathe her, then set her down in the cot in Sam's hut that Murtagh had woken up in.

Hal had not stirred for two whole days. She had not shown any signs of life except for the shallow breaths she took. And it was in the midst of her sudden fit, out of sheer desperation, that Murtagh finally touched her mind so that he may reach her once more.

She had slept after that.

And she had begun to move when she awoke. Slowly, but on her own. She didn't speak. Didn't really acknowledge anyone. But she was moving. And that was enough for now.

And Murtagh had been so relieved, that he had wept.

Now she sat there as people came, one-by-one, bowing their heads in acknowledgement of Denu's passing. To Murtagh's surprise, the first person in line had bowed to Hal, then turned to Murtagh and Thorn, and bowed to them. And every single person followed without question or hesitation. Murtagh's eyes filled with tears at the acknowledgement as members of Denu's family.

He was not surprised when Berjis stepped forward, his expression pained as he bowed to Hal, then to Murtagh and Thorn. Other members of his village had chosen to attend as well when news had reached them. Bea stood there, looking at Hal as if waiting for the woman to break into a smile and ask if she wanted to play. When Hal didn't even acknowledge that she had seen her, Bea broke away from her father's grasp and climbed into Hal's lap without preamble.

Berjis made a beeline for his child, trying to keep Aiden situated on his hip, when Murtagh threw out his arm and stopped him. Berjis looked at him, then back at Hal. Bea didn't say anything, just tucked herself into Hal's chest. And Hal quietly wrapped her arms around the little girl, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

When everyone finished paying their respects, Amon, Cado, and Ayo stepped forward. They were each going to hold one side of pyre, and Murtagh stepped forward to hold the other. Amon had quietly told him that he could walk up front with Hal, but Murtagh had insisted on being one of the men to carry the body. To hold up the man who had taken him into his home, and made it Murtagh's home as well.

And as they walked into the forest, Murtagh began to cry.

Hal continued to carry Bea as the group walked to the beach. The entire village was not expected to attend, as the trek could be weary for little ones and the elderly. But those who were able, walked behind the village elders, who walked behind Denu's body, who all walked behind Hal.

She was a lone figure in the dark, holding a small torch in her hand to light the way. She had slipped Denu's walking stick between her body and Bea's to keep it situated. Her back was stiff, and Bea laid her head on Hal's shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep as they walked.

It felt as though the entire village had gathered as they reached the shores of Illium. The pyre was placed near the water, the expansive ocean and sky its backdrop. Everyone gathered around, standing far enough away that when the flames would catch, it would not singe them.

Berjis took Bea's sleeping form out of Hal's arms. Then Hal, after setting Denu's walking stick in his hand and curling it into his chest, turned and faced the crowd. She was crying quietly, but there was a love in her eyes as she gazed upon the people of her village. Her eyes landed on Murtagh. He didn't know what to think or feel or do in that moment, the wind flirting about the skirt of her white dress robes.

She held out her hand.

He walked forward, taking it, and she looked past him, nodding at Thorn to also step forward. She looked at them both, and in her eyes, Murtagh could see love. Even in her grief, the love was still there.

Her hand was shaking as she turned towards Denu. She stepped closer, leaning down and kissing his forehead tenderly. She lingered for several moments before standing straight, her eyes filling with tears at the reality. The burning of the body. The final goodbye. Murtagh could feel her hesitation, her fear, as she struggled to maintain her composure.

He readjusted their fingers so that he could stand behind her. Then he placed his hand over hers, gently touching her mind.

 _Together?_

She didn't respond at first, her sobs racking her body. But she slowly nodded her head, her cries growing louder, moving the rest of the crowd to tears of their own. Hal's grief was heavy. And at first, her hand still resisted. But he was patient and, slowly but surely, she lowered the flames to the pyre. And he could've sworn he heard her whisper, "I'm sorry," just before the fire touched the straw.


	46. Chapter 46: Ascension

Murtagh watched Hal carefully from his spot leaning against the doorframe. She had not acknowledged his presence for nearly half-an-hour, and Murtagh had long since forgotten why he had come to her in the first place. She was sitting by the window, staring out at the overcast sky with the same expression she had worn for the last week since the funeral. She had hardly moved from her spot, still as a statue and just as quiet. Her mental shields had gone back up, preventing Murtagh from reaching her at all.

He wondered what she was thinking about.

"How is she?" Invidia asked as Murtagh stepped out of the hut, shoulders hunched against the onslaught of emotions.

"Same as yesterday. Same as the day before."

His tone was biting and harsh, and his shoulders slumped at Invidia's still expression. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I did not mean to take my frustration out on you."

She shook her head. "No apology is necessary. You have suffered as well, and I know none of this is easy for you."

Murtagh felt his vision swim, but he blinked back his tears. "I don't know how to help her. I don't know what to do or say. I don't..." His voice broke and he quickly silenced himself before his emotions got the best of him.

Invidia placed a hand on Murtagh's shoulder as he wiped furiously at his cheeks. "It is not always knowing what to do or what to say. It is about simply being there. That was all Denu did for her when she was a child. He simply made himself present in her life. Now you must do the same. And like Denu, you will not be alone. We will help you, as will the rest of the village if they can."

Murtagh nodded, salvaging the rest of his composure at Invidia's words. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he whispered, staring up at the pale, early morning sky. "I keep replaying every moment over and over and over again, wondering what I did wrong. Wondering where I made the mistake that caused all of this to happen."

Invidia shook her head, her blonde hair moving slightly at the gesture. "You didn't do this. We both know the cost of war."

"This wasn't war," Murtagh said in a low voice. "This was a slaughter. Calculated and cruel. It's as simple as that."

The elf sighed. "I suppose you are right. But it does not mean it was any more your fault. No one blames you for this. And no one will. What happened to Denu and the other victims is no one's fault but Thea's."

Murtagh didn't respond, and in the silence, Ayo and Blödhgarm approached, covered in a fine layer of dirt and sweat. They both nodded silently as they came to stand beside Invidia and Murtagh.

"We finished excavating what remained of Denu's hut," Ayo explained in a gruff voice. "We placed all the materials outside, if you would like to come take a look."

"You finished?" Murtagh blanched in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me, I would have helped."

"We did not mind, _Shur'tugal_ ," Blödhgarm countered gently. "We didn't want you to overwhelm yourself by the process. You too deserve to grieve for what you have lost. And it is imperative that you remain with Halen when you can."

Murtagh tried to find the strength to argue, but it quickly left him. His body still felt an alarming sense of numbness yet heaviness these last few days. Like it didn't know what to feel. The littlest things easily tired him out. If he was not with Hal, he was with Invidia and Blödhgarm, trying to heal as many of the injured as he could. The process was…difficult. Even when the villagers tried to smile and thank him, he could see in their eyes that they were just as sad and lost as he. The joy of the village that Hal had fought so hard to protect had been ruptured.

He followed Ayo and Blödhgarm to what remained of Denu's hut, Invidia promising to remain with Hal until Murtagh returned.

"It wasn't as bad as we first assumed," Ayo explained as they came to the neatly laid pile of scavenged items. Each were separated by owner: Murtagh, Hal's, and Denu's. Murtagh, having only been there a few months, did not have much. But he was relieved to see that his blanket gifted to him by the Tenari, while dusty, but unscathed. He took it so that he could pack it later in his bag with Thorn — who had been keeping close to the children to ease their nerves and worries while adults were occupied with more stressing matters.

For Hal, there were stacks upon stacks of books, most of which he was glad to see had made it out as well. "Can we place these somewhere where they'll be safe from the elements?" he said, looking at Ayo then up at the sky, which was steadily growing grey.

"Aye, consider it done," Ayo said. "There's a storage shed by the stables; they'll be safe there. I'll get some of the men to help me move them."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I reckon these books will become encyclopedias someday." But his smile did not quite meet his eyes.

There were a few of Hal's spare trousers, tunics, dresses, and nightgowns that Murtagh neatly folded and set aside with his blanket. Then he moved on to Denu's pile. His vision blurred once more, but he forced himself to look through what remained of the man's clothing and other items. There was a small jewelry box, and Murtagh's eyes widened when he opened it. Inside was a beautiful, green gem, about the size of his thumb. It was nestled inside a broken locket, but the beauty of it was not diminished despite the rusty chain that encircled it.

"Ah, I remember that necklace," Ayo said sadly. "Denu showed it to me once. It belonged to his mother. He told me that she gave it to him as a wedding gift. He and Isa meant to pass it along to their children, before they realized they couldn't have any. Denu must've forgotten he had it — otherwise I'm sure he would've given it to Hal."

Murtagh did not think the old man had forgotten — he was too sharp for that. No. He suspected Denu was simply waiting for the right moment — whatever that may have been.

"Would it be wrong of me to hold on to this?" Murtagh asked, thinking quietly.

Ayo seemed to puzzle over it for a moment. "I don't see why it would be. What do you plan to do with it?"

Murtagh had no earthly idea. But something told him to keep it.

By the time he had gone through everything, taking what he thought was needed and having the rest tucked away for now, it had begun to rain. There had been very few rainstorms since Murtagh had come to Illium, but he welcomed the warm downpour and dark clouds. It was hard to feel so depressed when the nature itself seemed to mock him with its cheery blue skies and perfect weather.

"Murtagh!"

He turned to find Eren running towards him. The boy was breathing rather heavily, but spoke quickly. "The elf, Invidia, told me to tell you that Hal was up. They headed that way about fifteen minutes ago."

Murtagh thanked him and followed his pointing finger through the village. He moved at a slow jog, frowning and anxious. Hal was up? Was something wrong or had Invidia forced her to move? People were quickly retreating inside, out of the rain. They closed their doors, their reed mats lowered on the windows. It felt strangely quiet, the rain growing heavier and soaking the ground. It was a small miracle, as it began to wash away the remnants of blood splatter on the ground.

Murtagh should have guessed where she'd be. He slowed to a stop, keeping his distance. Invidia was still close by, but she had given Hal space as she walked towards the children who were more than happy to continue playing in the rain. Layla was holding her hand, walking her around, and Murtagh suspected she had dragged Hal out of the room. It looked like the children were playing some variation of hide and seek, but some were simply content to splash in the puddles that were quickly growing along the grassy field.

Thorn caught Murtagh's eyes and Murtagh could feel that the dragon was happy to see him through their bond. The children climbed on him, giggling as they boldly jumped across his back. The sound was infectious, beautiful even.

One of the older girls, Nesbeth, spotted him and waved him over. Murtagh tried to politely decline, but there was no escaping them once he had been caught. They dragged him over despite his insistence that he wasn't quite in the mood to keep them company. But they refused to listen, running endless circles around him with an energy that exhausted him even though he had hardly lifted a finger.

"Murtagh, bet you can't catch me!" Layla squealed. He half-heartedly reached for her and she easily dodged him. "Come on, you can do better than that."

He was goaded by the others as well, and he shook his head. They all stood there, crestfallen, when they realized he was serious.

He grinned.

The group screamed in surprise and delight when he suddenly took off after them. They darted away from him, the smiles on their faces quickly charming him, making him feel lighter than he had for some time. He easily snared Meri, who was waddling on tiny legs. She squealed in laughter as he tucked her under his arms.

"HEEEEELP!" She cried, laughing as he ran around, laughing manically. "Save me, Thorn!"

Thorn stomped his feet as if to charge Murtagh, and the rider turned to face his dragon. "You would betray me, Thorn!"

The children gasped at the sudden turn of events.

Thorn growled menacingly.

"Get him, Thorn!"

"You can take him!"

"Don't actually eat him, Thorn!"

Murtagh straightened a bit, rather affronted. "Is no one going to cheer for me?"

They rolled over in laughter and Murtagh cried in despair as he rounded on Thorn. "You have turned the little ones against me! You will pay for this!"

He took a step towards Thorn who snarled lightly so as not to startle the villagers. The children all howled as if charging into battle, and Murtagh's face actually fell in concern as they rushed him with eager and delighted faces. He quickly moved Meri so that she was pressed against his chest as he was surrounded and pushed off his feet. He slipped in the slick grass, attacked and defeated by a screaming herd of muddied children. He grunted as they clamored over his chest, but he didn't mind.

"Release him at once!"

Everyone turned in surprise as Hal stepped forward, hand held out in warning. But to Murtagh's surprise, there was a hint of playfulness in her gaze as she eyed the children one-by-one. "Let him go, or I will place a dangerous curse on you."

"You will never defeat us!" Layla said, jumping to her feet. "We have the might of Thorn on our side?"

Hal grinned. "Are you sure about that, fierce warrior?"

As if on cue, Thorn came to stand behind Hal, crouching down as if prepared to attack at her command.

"Thorn has been tricked!" Nesbeth cried.

"We must rescue him!"

 _So, you'll pick Hal's side but not mine_? Murtagh chastised over their bond. Thorn snorted in laughter.

"We must defeat the evil Captain Hal," Layla commanded. "Soldiers, to your positions." The children rose to their feet at a surprisingly quick and coordinated rate. What was Hal teaching them when she watched them? "Chaaarge!"

Hal squealed and took off running, keeping her speeds just slow enough that the children felt they would catch her, but just fast enough that they couldn't. Murtagh watched, his eyes enraptured in wonderment. Hal was laughing and smiling, running around the field and shouting about how they would never catch her. But that only made the children chase her harder, their arms and legs pumping with determination.

Murtagh knew it wouldn't last. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. But it was something. And he was loathed to miss it. He scrambled to his feet as Hal ran towards him. She turned, as did he, so that they were back-to-back.

"We are surrounded," Murtagh shouted as the children circled them with triumphant grins. "We should surrender and beg for mercy!"

They cheered at that.

"Never," Hal countered, her voice unwavering. "We must fight. But careful — they will look to deceive you. Do not let them trick you."

"Any last words?" Layla said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Murtagh leaned back so that only Hal could hear him. "Seriously, what have you been teaching her?"

Hal only grinned, shouting, as the children attacked.

…

The rain was coming down heavier now. There had been a slight break around noon, but it had picked up once again later in the afternoon. Muddied and tired, Hal and Murtagh had dragged themselves back to the hut to clean up. After washing off at the river, Hal bathed first, then Murtagh. When he emerged, dressed in a clean set of clothes, Hal was back in her chair, staring out the window with a sullen expression.

Murtagh had known it wouldn't last. But it hurt to see how quickly she had fallen back into despair. He laid down in the cot, exhausted. There was nothing to be done for the rest of the day until the rain ceased, and he felt himself grow drowsy as the heavy drops fell in a soothing rhythm.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt the cot sink down beside him. He opened his eyes, scooting over some as Hal laid down beside him. She buried herself in the crook of his arm, and his fingers tangled themselves in her hair, still damp. They didn't move or speak, but he listened to the sound of her breathing with rapt attention as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

…

Hal felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness. There were moments of intense clarity, like the funeral or when she was playing with the children in the rain. And there were moments of such darkness that she would feel as though she had forgotten where she was or what had happened. She was aware of figures in and out of the room where she had been staying, but did not care to acknowledge faces or names. She barely ate and could not sleep. She felt as though she were merely existing, but even that much became too exhausting for her.

She felt like she was trapped inside her own memories. Conversations with Denu, moments that, at the time, had felt insignificant were analyzed and stripped carefully by Hal. She could not help but fear that she had not done enough. Had not helped him enough. Loved him enough. Had she told him she loved him recently? Had she thanked him for all he had done for her? Did he know, even in those final moments, that she would have given almost anything to save him?

Almost anything.

Except…

Hal turned her head to gaze at Murtagh's sleeping figure. After that day of playing with the children, after crawling into bed with him, she had gravitated towards him every time he laid down to rest. And he always seemed pleasantly surprised when she did, as if he dared not get his hopes up. But his warmth was a comfort to her, and it was hard to ignore when he lay steps away from her. They would lay there in silence, both thinking and remembering the old man who had taken them in and given them a home when they didn't have one of their own. The man who had never asked for anything in return, not even their companionship or their love. But he had received it all the same.

Hal was scared. Thea had sought Denu out knowing it would hurt her. But she had been wrong about one thing.

Thea had not taken the one person in the world Hal would die to protect.

It had taken Hal a while to reach this conclusion. It wasn't so much that she loved Murtagh more than she did Denu. She could not — and would not — measure whose life was worth more.

But.

 _I have done all I have set out to do_ , Denu had once told her. _I have lived a good life. And all that is left for me is knowing that you will do the same, wherever and with whomever that may be._

Hal had spent twelve, wonderful years with Denu. Years she could never repay him for. He had breathed new life into her when she had needed it most. Cared for her, loved her, like she was his own. And as much as it pained her to lose him, at least they had their time together. To grow and to love one another.

She had not yet had that chance with Murtagh.

Hal feared what would happen to her if she lost him now. She feared what she might become. And she had agonized over whether she should sneak off and leave Illium, before it was too late. Before Thea realized that he was more than just a dragon rider to Hal. But Hal did not think she could part with him either.

And he would never let himself stray from her side.

Murtagh grunted in his sleep and Hal found herself smiling sadly despite herself. All the time in the world still didn't feel like enough. But she would not allow him to be taken from her, nor Thorn.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him, lightly, on the lips. Just because she wanted to. But she blushed in surprise when Murtagh's eyes flew open as she pulled away; she hadn't actually expected him to wake since he was often such a deep sleeper. But considering what had happened, it only made sense that he was more sensitive to any sort of touch or sound.

He blinked once at her, as if also confused as to whether or not what he had felt had been a dream or not. "Hal?"

She felt a tear roll down her cheek at the sound of her name. Hoarse with exhaustion, brimming with tenderness. Even if he was not consciously doing it, she could hear it. The concern for her, strengthened only by his love.

 _I'm not quite sure of anything anymore._

But that wasn't true. Not really. She was sure of her love for Murtagh. She was sure of his love for her. She was sure of her love for Denu. And she was sure of his love for her. She was sure of her love for her people. And she was sure of their love for her.

What that meant, she did not know. But she was sure of it, of all of it, and she felt a bit of strength as she tenderly pushed Murtagh's hair from his face. His breathing changed at her touch, try as he might to hide it. His eyes never left hers, studying her face with such devotion and care that Hal leaned forward once more and pressed her lips to his.

He was unsure, cautious, as she was still crying quietly. But as Hal pressed her body to his, carefully and slowly deepening the kiss, she felt his caution slip into desire. His hands moved across her hips as hers slipped under the bottom of his tunic. She sighed at the warmth of his skin, delighted in the way he shivered at her touch. His heart raced under her fingertips, beating madly in response to her. She felt hers quicken as well, heat pooling between her legs as the blood rushed to the apex of her thighs. She whispered his name, her breath catching as her desire for him grew.

Oh, how she ached for him in the worst way. She longed to feel his lips across her skin and between her legs. The touch, not to mention the arousal pressed against her leg, indicated that he felt the same way. It felt like ages since they had been intimate with each other like this. Controlled and calculated, yet wild and unrefined. Their breath was stilted in the silence, aware that others slept nearby.

Murtagh gently rolled them over, never breaking the kiss as his hand dove between her legs, seeking the heat between them amongst the fabric of the sheets and her nightgown. She didn't realize how anxious and eager her body had been until his fingers grazed her center, wet and sensitive at the touch. She gasped against his mouth, arching her back at the feel. He moved slowly, carefully, rubbing her gently yet working her, still, into a frenzied state. She wanted to feel him. All of him. Desperately. She needed the relief. The escape. Even if just for a moment.

He knew better than to give her what she truly wanted, which was more than his hand cupping her center. Hal would certainly give them away otherwise. So, she contented herself with the feel of his fingers gently slipping between her legs, stroking her pleasantly. It felt delightful, carefully working her up to release. Their kiss felt like a battle of wills and control, their lips swollen and their tongues dancing and stroking the other's.

She was close, she knew, and she broke the kiss, panting and hoarse as she pulled is head down. "I love you," she whispered, her voice tight as she struggled to speak amidst the throes of her orgasm. "I love — I love you," she said again, the feeling in her body intensifying as she struggled not to cry out. "I love you. I love you." She strained to speak, arching against him, hips writhing in ecstasy, words escaping her as shudder after shudder ran through her. Murtagh was kissing her neck, helping her to come down as she continued to murmur how much she loved him. She was growing tired again, her body limp. It was the first time in a while she had felt so close to relaxed.

"I love you," she said again as he laid her back on the pillow, fixing her gown for her and hiding his face from her with his hair, his head bowed. "I love you," she said again.

When he raised his head, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He laid down beside her and kissed her again. Hal's own tears ran into her hair, splashing onto the pillow. "I love you," she repeated. He nodded, never tiring of it.

Hal closed her eyes as he pulled her into his chest, stroking the hair from her face as her breathing began to slow. "I love you," she said, her voice drifting off as sleep came for her. And until she was out completely, she continued to say it. She wanted to say it as often as she could, she didn't want him to doubt or forget.

Lest she lose him too, and she never got the chance to say it again.

…

When Hal awoke the next morning, the space beside her was already cold, and she rolled over in surprise. It was barely light out. How early had Murtagh woken up? Or perhaps the better question was had he slept at all? Admittedly, after their intimacy last night, Hal was a little stung that he was not here when she woke up. But then again, it was she who had been keeping him at arm's length the last few days. It was she who had cut him out so that she did not have to feel the multitude of emotions she always felt when in his presence. Last night was glorious and temporary. She could not act as though it had fixed anything. Even if it had been her way of allowing herself to feel something, even for a small bit of time.

Unsure of herself, Hal slowly sat up. She didn't know what to do or where to go. Most days, she wanted to be alone. But when she was, she felt a crippling loneliness that frightened her. Alone with her thoughts, her isolation felt maddening. Like she was falling down a dark hole. And the further she fell, the harder, she knew, it would be to climb back out. But if she dared allow herself to bask in the presence of others, she was reminded of how much things would now change. Her village was more cautious and quieter than it had ever been. And she would remember that she had done this. She had brought harm to her people, just like she had the Xano.

And now, Denu was dead.

The sob was out her mouth before she could catch it, her vision blurring as her loss hit her all over again. He was not a figure she imagined death ever coming to claim. His presence in her life since washing up on the shores of Illium had been so unwavering and steadfast, it was as though she were meant to find him. Or rather, he was meant to find her. In the back of her mind, she knew he would not live forever. But why was it that no one in her life seemed to last? Ten years with her family and the Sani village. Twelve years with Denu. Was her time with the Tenari growing to a close too? Murtagh and Thorn?

Hal did not realize her sobs had turned into wails of despair until Murtagh came barreling into the room, looking frantic before he realized that Hal was not in danger, just in pain. And he rushed to her side and swept her into his arms, burying her face into his chest. And as if he had known what her thoughts had been by the way she clung to him desperately, he gently whispered over and over, "I'm here, Halen. I'm here."

She could hardly breathe, let alone speak. And she felt so lost, so helpless, so without hope, that all she could do was cry harder. Murtagh's hands were shaking as he rocked her back and forth, his own teeth clenched together tightly so that his own emotions did not get the better of him. He needed to be strong for Hal. He needed her to know that no matter what, he would be there for her in whatever capacity she needed. And he could not do that if he allowed himself to fall apart.

When Hal finally began to calm down, she and Murtagh were still clinging tightly to each other. Soon, a silence fell over them, a wariness that had not been there before. Not when Hal had first been taken by the Ra'zac. Not when they learned of the Shade's existence. Not even after the attack on the Xano village. Instead, it was like everything from the last few months had hit them all at once. And it was shocking, they were realizing, how much they had truly endured. How much they had lost, and how much they still stood to lose.

Hal looked up at Murtagh, truly seeing his weariness for perhaps the first time. He was always so careful around her, masking his emotions as though he were not allowed to feel as lost as she did. Hal laid her hand on his cheek, and he glanced at her briefly before looking away again. She thought back to last night, how careful he had been to hide his face from her.

She opened her mouth to speak when a knock at the door interrupts. Her train of thought is lost as Murtagh bade the visitor entry, and Ayo stuck his head in, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but the council elders have requested Hal's immediate presence."

Hal felt her skin grow clammy. "What for?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," Ayo admitted. "But I don't think you're in trouble.

Hal was not comforted by these words, but rose dejectedly to her feet regardless. She supposed this was bound to happened eventually. And with the blood now on her hands, she could not hope to maintain the trust of her people now. They would want her gone, and Hal could not blame them.

When Murtagh stood too, Ayo grimaced. "They want to see Hal alone, my friend."

Murtagh looked ready to argue, but then fight disappears as quickly as it had come. "Can I at least walk with her?"

"No, Dragon Rider, you must agonize in misery over her absence," Ayo teased. "Of _course_ you're allowed to walk with her. We just can't go in with her."

Murtagh didn't even seem to hear him, just nodded distractedly. Hal knew he was miles away in that brain of his, and she felt wretched. She had been so wrapped in her own grief that she had not once asked Murtagh how he was feeling, what he needed, how she could help. She had shut herself out. She had shut him out.

"Can't this wait?" Hal asked Ayo. But he just shook his head and said, "They insisted."

The walk to the village center was a quiet one. Hardly anyone was out, preferring to keep to the known comforts of their homes. It's haunting, how still everything felt. How empty. Hal barely managed to repress a shudder, and Murtagh quietly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, as if he knows exactly what she was thinking. She leaned into him, grateful for the small comforts.

Tengene was waiting for her outside the hut, his expression forlorn and heavy. He doesn't bark at her to hurry up like he would have done before. And Hal bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that he was just as distraught as she. Denu was like family to the both of them, and often the only one who could quell their constant bickering.

"Everyone is already inside," he said as Hal moved to stand in front of him. Then he ducked his head and went in.

Hal suddenly felt sick. Desperately, she looked to Murtagh, hoping to convey her utter wish to be sprinted from here as quickly as possible. He leaned down and presses his lips to her forehead instead. "I will be right here, _iet dunei_ ," he promised.

She supposed it's better than nothing, and nodded quietly before taking a deep breath. Then she pushed back the fabric and disappeared inside.

…

Murtagh sat outside for what felt like hours. Ayo slipped away to tend to matters with his family, but was stunned to see Murtagh still waiting when he returned. He was joined by Amon, Sam, Cado, and Eli, who were obviously here for support. And though little words were passed between them, Murtagh was grateful for everyone's presence.

Just as the sun was at its peak, the material of the hut moved and the village elders stepped out. Hondo, Chijioke, and Ibrahim were chuckling, looking rather calm, although Tengene was ranting vehemently. "Foolish child, what is there to think about? I thought she was all about acting as quickly as possible?"

"Come now, Tengen," Hondo said lightly, "you and I both know that this is a lot for her to process. Of course she needs time."

"Time we don't have," Tengene reminded him. And then he looked up, as if only just realizing that Murtagh and the others were there. "What do you want?"

"We're just waiting for Halen," Amon said slowly, trying to piece together what happened based on the conversation they had all overheard. "Is she all right."

"I think she's going to be just fine," Ibrahim said with a grin. "But you should go check on her, just in case. She may still be in a state of shock."

Murtagh needed no further encouragement. He rushed forward, finding himself inside the same room where he had sat beside Denu and pleaded to be allowed to stay in the village. Hal sat where he had, legs tucked underneath her. She looked up when she heard him enter, and her eyes were wide with surprise. She blinked as he sat down beside her, taking her face in his hands, his own expression laced with concern.

"What happened, is everything okay?"

Hal opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, nodding quietly. She took a small breath and said slowly, "I told them everything. About the print, discovering the Ra'zac, my magic and our trainings, about what happened at the Xano village, and the Shade. Everything."

Murtagh felt his chest tighten. The men had looked too content to have doled out a punishment. But could Murtagh have misread things? "What did they say?"

Hal's brows furrowed slightly, her confusion obvious. Then she looked at him squarely and said, "They asked if I would succeed Denu as village leader."

Murtagh blanched, stunned. That had been the last thing he was expecting, and he'd had plenty of time to go through many different scenarios. "Halen —"

"I know —"

"Halen that's —"

"Completely idiotic?"

"Wonderful," Murtagh finished at the same time, his voice catching in awe and disbelief. "Hal, that's wonderful. That's…wait, why would it be idiotic?"

"Murtagh, I don't know how to be a leader," Hal chastised, as if this answer were obvious. "And a woman has never led the village. Who is to say I would be well received?"

"Hal there is not a person in this village who would think so ill of you as to doubt whether or not you capable of this. And it makes sense. You are Denu's only family —"

"Not by blood. And the position of village leader is not chosen like a monarchy. It is a unanimous decision made by the elders."

"And did they make a decision?"

"Yes, but it is the wrong one. Denu was good at being patient, and negotiating, and working with others and bringing people together. His strength lay in his h-heart and his wisdom. I could never hope to measure up to him. I would not dare to try. It would not be right."

Hal furiously wiped at her cheeks, but the tears ran faster than she could catch them. "This feels so cruel," she hissed, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Asking me to replace him."

"Hal, I don't think they are," Murtagh said, choosing his words carefully. "Based on your experiences, you are the best fit. You are abreast on the issues surrounding the village, people listen to you, you are protective of this village, you are brilliant, you have strong ties with Berjis and his people…honestly, I'm starting to think that Denu may have wanted you to succeed him all along."

"But he never said anything to me. Why not ask me if this is what I wanted?"

Murtagh didn't want to say it, but the distress in Hal's expression made him loathe to withhold information. He didn't want to presume she couldn't handle the truth — or what he believed the truth to be — just because she was mourning.

"He probably thought he would have more time to tell you," Murtagh said, his throat closing with emotion. "I'm sure he never intended for you to find out this way."

Hal's face crumbled and she let out a choked sob before burying her face in her hands. They sat in silence before Murtagh realized it was just too much for Hal to think about right now. "Come," he said, getting to his feet slowly. "You don't owe them an answer right now. Let's go for a walk, or a ride or something."

But Hal grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down beside her. Her eyes are wide, and there's almost a panic in her expression. "I don't understand, why do you seem so calm about this?"

Murtagh cannot help but smile. "Hal, from the moment I met you, I always knew you were meant for something extraordinary. And I think Denu knew it too. No one cares for this village or its people the way you do. You have risked life and limb to ensure that everyone here feels safe."

"And I have failed spectacularly!"

"The village still stands, Hal. It is not gone. And that's because you helped give it a fighting chance. You tried when it mattered most," Murtagh reminded her. He thought of when their paths crossed again all those months ago in the woods, when Amon and the others had been attacked by the Ra'zac. And Hal had been the only one who dared make the venture out to try and find the men, to help them return home. "Being a leader does not always mean people will like you. Oftentimes, it means people will not. But it means being able to make the choices that are best for as many people as possible, despite that. And Hal, you have more heart for this than anyone I know. But you have to want this. Do not do this because you believe you have to. Sleep on it for a bit. And know that no matter what you decide, I will support you."

She looked so relieved at his words and quickly nodded her head, as if he had given her permission. Murtagh slowly reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear, only then realizing she had yet to put it up like he was so accustomed to seeing. And it made her look so vulnerable that it unnerved him. He kept his hand on her cheek and Hal reached up to cover it with her own.

Her gaze shifted a bit as she studied him. At first, he thought nothing of it until she said, "Murtagh…about last night —"

And he could see on her face the same emotions he had been grappling with. She couldn't even continue to look at him as she uttered the words 'last night' and his own face burned with guilt. It had happened so suddenly he didn't have time to question whether if now was the time. But even in those brief, heated minutes, he had felt something besides this numbing pain that followed him throughout the day. However, he knew immediately afterwards that he shouldn't have touched her the way he did. She was grieving, just as he was. And he didn't like the thought that he had somehow taken advantage of that.

But he didn't want to tell her this. He preferred it, actually. Because he could see in her face that she was worried about him. And he didn't want to add to her burdens by giving her reason to worry. So he pulled her towards him and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I love you, too," he said, trying to keep his voice light as he forced a small smile on his face. "Since I didn't get a chance to say it then."

Hal didn't respond, and she didn't smile like she normally would. And she seemed to realize that he didn't want to talk about it, and finally nodded her head. "We should go," she said instead. "We have a busy day ahead of us."

And she removed his hand from her face and rose to her feet. Then she turned and exited the tent without sparing a single glance back to make sure he was following.

…

Hal and Murtagh spent the next few days dividing their time between attending the remaining funerals for those who had lost their lives in the attack. There was something crippling about attending the services back-to-back, but Hal never wavered or complained. And she bowed and apologized to every family, even though many were adamant she do no such thing. Neither Hal nor Murtagh acknowledged what went unsaid between them. And those casual touches and stolen kisses began to fade with each passing moment of silence.

At the end of the week, Murtagh knew Hal was exhausted and reaching the end of her rope. She moved slower, and he was constantly catching her digging her nails into her palms when she was trying to distract herself from her emotions. He didn't want her falling ill from stress, and insisted she stay in bed for at least a day.

"You and I both know that I am no good idle, rider," Hal protested, already trying to sit up in bed.

"Well that's too bad," he countered, keeping his voice level. "You need rest. There's nothing wrong with taking it easy, just for today."

"There is still too much to be done. Huts were destroyed because of me, people are too frightened to venture out of their homes, but we'll need to get back into the fields as some point before the crops die out. Not to mention we still need to meet privately with Invidia and Blödhgarm to discuss what we are going to do about Th — the Shade."

He wanted to ask how she could care so much for her village, yet have no desire to lead it. He knew part of it was her guilt. Yet, he had a feeling that if she had received this offer under better circumstances, she would still hesitate. It was obvious Hal should lead. And yet, she had yet to give an answer even though a week had passed since she received the offer. But Murtagh did not ask her any of this, did not speak it. Instead he said, "Does that beautiful brain of yours ever slow down to give you a moments rest?"

She gave him a sad, noncommittal smile, but said nothing.

He sighed. "Fine. But if I think for a moment you are taking on more than you can handle, I'll throw you over my shoulder and strap you into bed myself."

Hal didn't respond with your usual quip, and his face turned pink with a bit of embarrassment. He felt ridiculous, exhausting every effort to ease her pain even though he knew it was not what she wanted. And Hal seemed ready to confront this by saying, "You cannot ignore your feelings by devoting yourself to me."

Her words themselves did not sting, for Murtagh was already aware of the truth. What did hurt was the feeling of being cornered by Hal's unexpected and blunt demeanor.

"I'm fine," he said reflexively, and he flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. And Hal looked rightfully insulted. Sighing, he ran his fingers over his brow. "I'm just trying to help. I just want to help, Halen. I'm not trying to make things harder on anyone, least of all you."

Her shoulders slumped as if in defeat, and her expression softened. "Heavens, rider, you are the last person making anything difficult for me." And then, to his flustered surprise, she reached out and took his hands, pulling him closer to her. She looked up at him with wide, searing brown eyes that threatened his very composure. "I just need to know that you are taking care of yourself as much as you are me," she told him gently. "I've been thinking a bit about it," she continued, her voice softening with each word, "and I know our relationship is a lot different now than it was a few months ago. And maybe it's not as easy to talk to me now as it was then —"

"Never," Murtagh said defensively.

Hal bit down on her lip to hide a sad smile. "Sometimes, the things we are able to tell a friend are not things we can tell our lovers. And that's okay, rider. I do not have to be your only confidant if that is hindering your ability to process what has happened. But if you are not talking to me, please talk to someone. Even if you have to ride out with Thorn to get away for a bit, you will not hurt anyone's feelings. Least of all mine."

Then she rose to her feet and leaned forward to gently press her lips to his. When she pulled away, she added, "I love you."

Her words washed over him like warm water, and he bit the inside of his cheek to hide his emotions, trying not to let his guilt and grief show. But still, he felt something lovely in the words, a light in a time of darkness.

He took her face in his hands, overcome with emotion as he responded, "I love you, too," as easily as breathing. Because he felt none of the fear he had before at the stress of telling her how he felt. Not now, when it still transformed her features, reminding him that she longed to hear it just as much as he did. And to utter such powerful words to Hal was the most natural thing in the world that he could not help but say them again. "Heavens, Hal, I love you so much."

She smiled even brighter at him, leaning forward to kiss him again before darting out of the room to start her day. Murtagh knew she cared about the village, knew she was trying to help. But he worried that this was all merely Hal's way of distracting herself. Of throwing herself into the work, ignoring her emotions despite her insistence that he not do the same. Dare he push her? He doesn't want to insult her by assuming she's fragile, but he doesn't want to just sit quietly when he knows she's hurting.

And it doesn't take long before Murtagh realizes he's not the only one who has noticed Hal's behavior.

"I need you to talk to her, _Shur'tugal_ ," Blödhgarm was telling him later that afternoon as they ventured into the forest for privacy. "There is still much to discuss, steps that must be taken. We have already wasted much time staying here —"

"It was not a waste!" Murtagh snapped defensively, recalling the final body that had just been laid to rest the day before.

Blödhgarm held up a hand, face contorting with regret. "I chose my words poorly. I humbly apologize." Murtagh didn't acknowledge it, but the elf continued. "But we cannot remain here knowing Thea is out there somewhere. We must leave Illium immediately."

"Leave Illium?" Murtagh hissed, keeping his voice low as he glanced nervously over his shoulder, paranoid a villager or Hal had appeared nearby. However, he and the elf were so deep in the woods, it was doubtful they would be discovered. "How on earth is that even still option? We must stay and protect the villagers."

"The villagers are not safe so long as Halen remains here. If Thea were to strike again, she will strike where she knows Halen to be."

"And if we leave? Thea could attack out of pure spite. And then we would leave our people defenseless!"

"We would make sure to take proper precautions," the elf hedged. "But you must realize that it is more likely that wherever Hal goes, Thea will follow. Capturing Hal is likely her priority."

"She came after the Tenari to lure Hal in. Hal could've turned after what transpired here. What you are suggesting is reckless endangerment and I will have no part of it!"

"You need to stop thinking like a common man and start thinking like a Dragon Rider," Blödhgarm retorted. "Like the soldier I know you are."

"I am not a soldier anymore."

"This is war, Murtagh, and you know it. And Thea has the upper-hand. We don't know her plans or what she is capable of. She has managed to operate in secrecy right under our noses this entire time. Eragon is gone, and our allies are spread thin across Alagaësia. We need to fortify a plan now, before it is too late."

"You and I both know if I step foot on the mainland, I will have a target on my back. I am still a wanted man."

"There are ways around that, and you know it."

"Those options are not up for discussion. All I know is that Hal has lost more than she should have had to, as have her people. I will not uproot her from the only life she has ever known. Has she not endured enough? Has she not lost enough?"

Blödhgarm's expression softened as he studied Murtagh. "She has, _Shur'tugal_. She has lost much more than any person has any right to. But she is resilient. And she is not alone. But please properly consider the consequences of what could happen if we stay."

"The risk is just as great if we leave. If I do decide to bring this up to Hal — and that's _if_ — must all of us go? Why can't you and Invidia go?"

"Because Halen still puts the Tenari at risk by staying here. Should war come to this island, and it very well could, Halen will have to live with that. Do you honestly think she could survive such a weight?"

Murtagh did not respond.

"I admit, I had not considered Invidia and myself remaining behind. But it is a possibility. And if it would convince you to talk to Halen about my proposal, then I will keep it on the table as an option."

Murtagh wanted to argue, but rationale was fighting back hard with what he desired. He wanted to remain on the island. It was his home, and Thorn's, and Hal's. Before the attack, leaving had not seemed so daunting. Now, fear threatened to keep him rooted to the island forever. But he knew Blödhgarm was right. If Thea was after Hal and Hal remained on the Illium, then they were guaranteeing another attack would strike.

"I will talk to Hal," Murtagh conceded. "And I will lay out all of our options plainly and fairly. But this is her life. Whatever she decides, I will support her."

Blödhgarm nodded. "That is all I ask."

As the two walked away, back towards the village, neither of them realized the lone figure who had been sitting in the tree, an open sketchbook forgotten in her lap.


	47. Chapter 47: Across the Ocean

The village was quiet this late at night. And as Hal stood in the middle of it, she felt an ache in her chest unlike anything she had ever felt. In the past, she had lost so quickly, she did not have time to process until after the fact. Her people, Uden, and Denu. But now, as she stood amongst the rows of huts that had become her home, she was faced with the realization that she would have to leave it all behind. And she was too cowardly to say goodbye.

She turned in the spot where she was standing, then slowly proceeded down the row of huts. She couldn't even properly accept her grief, wouldn't allow herself to believe that this could be the last time she saw her village. She was already creating a running checklist in her head, all the things that would need to be done in the next few months. The people who would need to be checked on. The huts that would need to be rebuilt. The fields that would need tending to. There was much work to be done, and despite the heavy losses they had just sustained, it would be reckless to let anything slip.

Her boots kicked up the dry dust around her skirt as she walked. When she finally stopped, she was standing on the edge of the fields, scanning the cultivated lands, eerily empty when cast under the dim glow of the moon. She wasn't sure what was compelling her forward, but she headed towards the wheat fields first, already braiding her hair for the first time in weeks to keep it out her face. She rubbed the wheat head of one stalk between her fingers, then plucked it and took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. Not quite ready to be harvested, perhaps in a week or so.

She went through the rows of vegetables, cotton, cocoa beans, checking for ripeness, picking what was ready and carrying them in baskets over to the stalls where they would be checked in the morning and divvied up amongst the families. She didn't mean to work in the middle of the night. But she needed something to soothe her scattered mind and aching heart. And it was just enough of a distraction that she carried on for the comfort it provided. Not to mention with the lighting of the moon and the lack of direct sunlight making it too hot, the conditions actually felt rather ideal.

She was not surprised when Murtagh eventually came out and joined her. She knew he would notice her absence eventually, and was sure he had wandered around, not expecting her in the fields. He watched her for a moment, curious. And then, without preamble, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work on the row opposite Hal. Having worked in the fields much more than she had, he was quick, and Hal unconsciously found herself competing to keep up, both of them grinning as their paces quickened in an effort to out-do the other. And it was such a small thing, but she loved him dearly for it.

Her skirt was filthy, and Hal was coated in a thin layer of sweat as she dug out weeds from the ground. When she looked up to check Murtagh's progress, movement over his shoulder gave her pause. When Murtagh noticed she had grown still, he quickly looked around to see what she had. They both rose to their feet in surprise as the villagers streamed out onto the fields. Some waved at them cheerily, and others just went straight to work, mining the sections that Murtagh and Hal had not yet reached.

"Hope you two saved some for the rest of us," Cado said with a grin, slapping Murtagh on the back as he walked past.

"What are you all doing here?" Hal asked. "You should be resting —"

"Oh come now, Hal," Eli said from beside her. "Wouldn't be right letting our new village leader do all the work. We can at least chip in for half?"

"I was just going to do this row right here," Cado teased, gesturing to the one Murtagh had already finished. "But seeing as how the rider beat me to it, I guess I'm done."

"I have one hand, so I'm here for moral support," Eli countered. He grinned at Hal. "But you've got it all under control, right?"

"Who told you I was village leader?" Hal asked, ignoring their quip. "I haven't even accepted the position."

"Hondo told Sarah —" Cado began.

"Who told Mai," Eli finished.

"Enough said," Hal sighed. "I honestly think it would kill those two to _not_ gossip." The men grinned as Hal shook her head. "That still doesn't explain what you all are doing here?"

"Sam saw Murtagh leave, followed him and saw the both of you out here working. He realized what you were doing and started knocking on doors. And everyone wanted to help."

"I was doing this so that people could rest," Hal retorted, watching people continue to pour out of their homes and set to work. She was frantic with worry, not wanting them to overexert themselves. "They've been through enough; I can manage a few crops."

"Well that's just the thing, Hal," Eli said with a faint smile, "you don't have to do this on your own. This is our home too; let us help take care of it."

The words gave her pause. Hal found herself looking over to Murtagh, who was watching her carefully. She recalled the evening he insisted on taking on her chores, the first time he had called Illium his home. And it had filled Hal wish such a sense of warmth that she had cried. She had always felt like she had to earn her place in the village. She was an outsider, and she had been a troublesome one at that. Everything she had done, she had done to pour her love and appreciation back into the people who had taken her in. The recent events had undermined all of that effort. She had brought bloodshed and grief where there had not been any before. She had felt like she had needed to repent.

And yet, her people continued on. They were more cautious, wearier even, but they were smiling, laughing, and working. Even in the middle of the night, because they hadn't wanted her to be alone. They had heard she and Murtagh were in the fields, and joined them. Hal kept waiting for their hatred, their resentment. The outsider who had brought trouble. She had always been so aware that she did not fully belong.

Until now.

And although it broke her heart to realize, she knew then that her village would be okay without her. And she knew then that she would be able to leave her people and her island behind. And she would have to trust that it would be okay. And for perhaps the first time, Hal could understand — not just appreciate, but understand — her mother's sacrifice. To trust that the boat would somehow carry Hal to safety, that she would find a better life, even if she would not be there to see it.

As if he knew what was ailing her, Murtagh stepped over the mounds of dug up earth and stood in front of her, taking her face in his hands. Hal could barely stand to meet his gaze, her own pain reflected in his steely, grey eyes. "I don't want to go," she whispered, her voice catching. "I don't want to leave them."

"I know," he said, his voice just as low. "I know. But we will come back. Do you hear me, Hal? We will come home."

She finally looked up at him. "I cannot ask you to come with me. I cannot risk your safety as well. It is not an option."

"I will not leave you alone, Halen. I was always set to follow you, whatever you decided."

"But you told Blödhgarm that the soldiers —"

"Ahh," Murtagh draws out, understanding dawning. "You overheard our conversation then?"

"It's not your fault you did not think to look up."

"Truthfully, I did not." His lips twitched humorously. His fingers brushed against the skin of her cheeks, his expression softening.

"You've only just made Illium your home," Hal continued. "And if you travel with me, you will be looking over your shoulder for both Thea and the soldiers. I cannot ask you to accept a life you came here to avoid in the first place."

She didn't know why she was pushing so hard against this. She knew she would unravel entirely without Murtagh by her side. But if she has to choose between leaving him behind on Illium, or risking his life on the mainland, it's no contest. She barely protected him from Thea once. What if she failed the second time?

"I did not come here to avoid a life of looking over my shoulder," he stated. "I came here, because there was a woman in grave danger, who needed my help." He lowers his forehead to hers. "And I stayed because she did. And if you leave, then I will leave as well. Wherever you go, I will follow. You are just as much my home as Illium. More so, if I am being honest. And I would be lost without you."

"Murtagh —"

But he cuts her off with a searing kiss that's dizzying in its intensity. Despite knowing what his choice would be, Hal cannot deny how relieved and grateful she is to hear his resolve. But their moment is cut short when a resounding howl fills the air, and they startle apart to find Cado cupping his hands around his mouth, grinning at them both. And mortified, Hal realizes they just gave themselves away in front of the entire village, those nearby staring with broad smiles and exchanging excited whispers. Her eyes widen in shock, her face quickly heating up.

"I bloody knew it!" Sam shouted, running towards them. He threw his arms around Hal and Murtagh. "I knew you two idiots had fallen for each other. How long? Please say since that dinner gathering; I have a bet running with Tena that it was at the dinner. She says the wedding."

"You're such an ass," Hal scolded, her face blazing with embarrassment as others begin to gather around. Murtagh looked equally uncomfortable with the sudden attention, shooting Hal apologetic glances as some of the men clap him on the back as though in congratulations. Sam continued to stare expectantly, waiting for a response. Hal rolled her eyes. "I don't know, it's complicated," she hedged, unsure of what to say. Had she not been so skittish with her own feelings, how soon could they have been together? The wedding? Perhaps, even before?

"Okay, but if you had to pick—?"

Just then, to Hal's relief, Amon breaks through the crowd. "All right, all right, either get back to work or go to bed. They're not getting married yet, so calm down." He looked directly at Sam and said, "You and Tena still have that bet going?"

"Hal refuses to tell me anything." Sam's eyes widened. "Oi, Dragon Rider—"

"Oh, if Hal refuses to say, then I most certainly will not," Murtagh said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

Sam rolls his eyes, stalking off in irritation. "Neither of you deserve my friendship."

Hal caught Murtagh's eyes and they both broke into teasing, knowing smiles. "He really took all the romance out of it," Hal commented, but she was quietly grateful, and Amon's smile said he knew it as well. Her friends were happy for her, that much was obvious. She could not have asked for more in their acceptance. As the crowd dispersed, Murtagh stepped towards them. Hal looked over at Amon. "Are you angry? That we kept this from you?"

He put his hands on his hips, observing Hal and Murtagh with proud eyes. "I'm happy for the both of you. Truly, truly happy. I understand why you wanted this to remain private. Expectations are stressful on any healthy relationship. You both know who you are as individuals, but learning who you are together is something else entirely, something special that only you can figure out. And you are both deserving of love and of happiness. Perhaps more than any two people I have ever known. So no, I am not angry."

Hal nodded, relieved, but still feeling as though her stomach were in knots. And she could not place why until Amon added, "And I know your old man would've been happy too."

Hal's exuberance quickly deflated, her chest growing painfully tight as her eyes begin to burn. And there it was. The truth that would hang over her head: that she would never get to share this moment of happiness with Denu. That she would never be able to tell him that she had found love with the unlikeliest of people, and was loved in return. And once started, her tears would not stop, no matter how quickly she tried to wipe her eyes. Embarrassed by the sudden and uncontrolled emotion, she tried to apologize only for Amon to stop her.

"Don't apologize for missing him, Hal," Amon tells her. "Ain't nothing to be sorry for." He looks at Murtagh. "You two have been running around all week. Why don't you go get some rest? We'll finish up here."

Unable to speak through her tears, Hal can only nod as Murtagh agreed out loud. Amon reached down and took them both in his arms, embracing them tightly. "It's about damn time," he chuckled. "I've been rooting for the two of you. We all have. You both bring out the best in each other, and that is such a rare gift. Cherish it."

Murtagh thanked him before taking her hand as they walk back. The further away they get, the more Hal was able to slowly get a grasp on her composure. Murtagh wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side, and Hal laid her head on his shoulder, grateful for his sturdy presence. "I hope you're not upset," Murtagh began sheepishly. "I completely forgot where we were. I know you wanted to wait. I'm sor —"

"I'm not," Hal admitted, raising her head to look at him. "I'm not upset and I'm not sorry. I was tired of hiding you like you're something to be ashamed of. And I don't think we were very good at it, to be honest."

"You're not worried about their…expectations of us?"

"I mean, they have yet to make me do anything I don't want to. And you and I have agreed not to consummate anything. That will just have to do for now, even though it's none of their business." She paused mid-step. "Wait, are you worried?"

He laughed. "No, Hal. So long as I am with you, I am not worried."

When they reached Sam's hut, they paused outside for a moment. "I actually considered taking it, you know," Hal admitted. "The role as village leader. Although I supposed there is no point in that now."

"I wouldn't say that," Murtagh said thoughtfully. "There may be short-term options to consider."

Hal shook her head in true disbelief. "Why are you so eager for me to take this position? What could I accomplish as village leader that I could not do as Halen?"

"It is not about the titles or lack thereof. I've told you before, you have accomplished more than anyone I know with much less. This is about recognizing what you have _earned_ , Hal. You may be too humble to admit it, but you would make a damn good leader. And I think — no, I _believe_ — that you are meant for this. You would be outstanding. I believe that with all that I am. And if you truly want this, I will back you completely."

"You will?"

"Aye."

Flushed from his praise, Hal cannot help but smile. "Okay. I will go talk to the rest of the village elders in the morning to discuss my options."

Murtagh grinned at the pleased look on her face. "I'm so damn proud of you, Hal."

She feels light for the first time in weeks under such praise. Perhaps, just for the moment, Murtagh's confidence in her is rubbing off. Or maybe it was the sight of her people coming to her aid. Her friends cheering for their happiness. Whatever it was, Hal knew this was a night that she needed. And she closed her eyes to hold on to it, to preserve it, for as long as possible.

…

"Halen. It is time."

Hal wasn't really asleep; her nerves wouldn't allow it. But her eyes still flew open as Murtagh gently shook her awake. "Come, _iet dunei_ , get dressed."

They both moved in silence, their expressions forcibly calm and neutral to hide the pain of all they were losing from the other. They had already packed their things in their bags, blankets, spare clothes, dried food, spare weapons, canteens, medicines, Hal's map, and, for Hal herself, her last sketchbook and ink. She did not know yet if she would ever draw again, but she knew she would come to regret it the moment she left it behind. She only had a few pages left, but she planned to use them wisely.

It was still dark as they stepped outside, quiet. Invidia and Blödhgarm waited outside Sam's hut, their expressions polite and kind. Hal was grateful that they had both agreed to stay for a few more months and make sure the village was protected. If and when they were needed, they would depart as well. But Hal was surprised to find her throat tight at the notion of leaving them behind. She would miss them as well.

The last few days had been a whirlwind of activity and preparation. After swearing the utmost secrecy from the village elders so that she and Murtagh could leave in peace, Hal granted Chijioke temporary leadership. She and him had met to discuss preparations for at least the next six months. After that, things were fuzzier, but they had enough to get started. And Invidia and Blödhgarm would be staying close enough to relay in messages to Hal as needed. But they would keep communication to a minimum for now, just in case. And when Hal and Murtagh returned, she would resume her duties as the village leader.

The official induction ceremony would be done when they came back. Instead, there was a small swearing in, with just the village leaders and Murtagh, who beamed with pride the entire time as Hal held her right fist over her heart and made her vows to serve the Tenari. Even Tengene began to smile, although he quickly dropped it when he noticed Hal watching him.

Mean old man.

After that, there was nothing left to do but pack, which didn't take long. Hal took Nani out for one last ride before dinner, preferring to go alone despite Murtagh's hesitation. Somehow, Hal doubted Ra'zac or Thea would burst from behind a tree to get her. And besides, she reminded him, he had placed enough wards over her to know when she sneezed. She would be fine.

Now, on the morning they were set to take their leave, Hal was grateful she had taken that time to herself. It did nothing for the ache in her stomach, but her mind felt more clear-headed and resolute.

"Remember," Blödhgarm said, speaking in a low voice as they walked towards the edge of the village to meet Thorn, "lay low for a bit. Avoid any cities and towns unless absolutely necessary."

"We still have not thought of a way to clear Murtagh's name," Hal reminded them all with a slight frown. "We will have to remain in hiding if revealing ourselves risk his and Thorn's safety."

"I told you my idea," Invidia said with a scowl.

"We need a less mad idea, Invidia," Hal retorted. Invidia threw up her hands and Hal caught Murtagh's gaze. He blushed furiously and looked away, and Hal felt equally embarrassed.

"You two are such children," she chastised.

"Well if you think of something better," Blödhgarm interrupted with an airy tone, "you are welcome to try it. We certainly don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"Honestly," Invidia snapped, as if insulted. But she let the matter drop, to which Hal was grateful.

When they reached Thorn, Murtagh began to strap on the saddle before tying their bags to it. Murtagh began to climb up first when a small voice rang out. "Hal? Murtagh?"

They both spun around as Layla approached, rubbing her eyes tiredly and staring at them in confusion. Murtagh quickly jumped down and went to her. "Layla, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explained in a tired voice. "I wanted to come see if Thorn would play with me."

The dragon crooned regretfully.

"I'm sorry, Thorn can't play right now."

"Why not?"

Murtagh struggled to answer and Hal had refused to turn around, staring at Thorn's scales and unable to convince herself to move. Realizing Hal was of no use, Murtagh sighed and said, "Because Thorn and I must go away for a while."

Layla inhaled sharply. "Why? When are you coming back?"

"I don't know."

"Is Hal going too?"

"Yes, she is."

"But why? You can't go now; I don't want you to!" Hal heard her stomp her foot aggressively and flinched at the sound. She felt her shoulders shake as she tried to suppress her tears. Of course this couldn't be easy. Since when was anything these days easy?

"I'm sorry, Layla. We have to go. We have to —"

Murtagh fell silent, and Hal quickly knew why. Even on the hard ground, she could hear the approaching footsteps, familiar in their weight. She grew tense.

"I thought it might come to this," Amon said gruffly, suppressing a yawn. "Although I admit I didn't expect you to try and leave without saying goodbye first."

Murtagh was speechless and Hal bowed her head, trying to hide her face. Trying to hide her shame at being caught in such a cowardly act.

"We thought it'd be easier this way," Murtagh said after a while, covering for the fact that it was Hal who had asked for the secrecy.

"Easier for who?" Cado challenged. "Everything we've been through together and you thought we'd let you three sneak out of here without so much as a 'see you later'? Now that's cold, my friends."

"We weren't trying to be cruel. We just —"

She could hear someone clap him on the shoulder. "We know, Dragon Rider," Sam said. "We know."

"Papa, make them stay!" Layla snapped, her voice cracking. "I don't want them to go. They can't go."

Hal could feel the cracks in her resolve begin to deepen. She felt her breathing become labored as her lower lip began to tremble with emotion. She thought she could do this. She thought, if she set her affairs in order, she would be content with this inevitable decision. But Layla's insistence was somehow like a slap to the face. She was leaving. And try as she might, there was no guarantee she would see her home or her people again. Once again, she would have to say goodbye. And she was unraveling with the stress of it.

She sucked in air to try and breath and released a heartbreaking sob. She curled at the waist, the pain in her stomach and chest too agonizing to bear. But before her knees could hit the ground, arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders and guided her gently down. She could feel hands on her back, smoothing down her hair despite the braid she had set it in. They all tried to whisper words of comfort as Hal wept with the unfairness of her life. She did not want to go. She didn't want to leave.

"We know, love," Amon whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Shhh, it's going to be all right. Breathe, Hal. Just breathe."

She cried even harder, letting out all of her hurt and anger. She gasped with the shock of it, her body shuddering violently as she struggled to get air into her lungs. Something tiny wriggled its way through, and Layla situated herself on Hal's lap.

"I'm sorry, Hal. I didn't mean to make you cry. Please stop crying, I'm sorry!"

Hal wrapped her arms around the girl's tiny body, sobbing into her neck, no doubt ruining the fabric of her nightgown. Hal cradled her like she would an infant, rocking back and forth hysterically as Layla wrapped her arms around Hal's neck. "It's okay, Hal. We'll be okay."

Hal wasn't sure how long they sat there. Wasn't sure how long she cried. But the sky began to grow faint, and she knew she had taken up too much time. But she hugged Layla tightly, sniffing and trying to maintain her composure, lest she start crying again.

"Papa says you're going on an adventure," Layla whispered.

Hal nodded, whimpering pathetically. "It'll be just like the stories," Hal whispered, squeezing Layla carefully. "The ones I always tell you about."

Layla's brief delight grew concerned and she frowned. "Will you be in danger?"

Hal brushed the child's hair from her face. "Have I ever been in danger?"

"Yes."

"And what do we do when we're in danger or we're afraid?"

Layla grinned. "We fight until we win."

"That's right," Hal said, tickling her stomach playfully. She committed the laughter to memory, tucking it away for the days when it was harder than she would have liked. Hal sniffed, giving Layla a bright and genuine smile. "And now, I'll have Murtagh and Thorn with me."

"You'll be practically unstoppable."

"You bet we will."

Layla looked over Hal's shoulder as Murtagh came and kneeled down beside them. "You'll come back, won't you?"

"That's the plan," Murtagh said gently, neither promising nor denying. For that, Hal was grateful.

"And you'll tell me everything when you do?! Including battle strategies and spy techniques?"

"How could I not tell my Lieutenant Commander Warrior Princess of our daring travels?"

Layla beamed, throwing her arms around both of their necks. Murtagh kissed her cheek while Hal kissed the top of her head, shaking as Murtagh gently lifted the girl from Hal's arms. Hal was loathed to part with her, but she knew it was for the best. Returning Layla to her father's arms, Murtagh then walked back to Hal and helped her onto her shaky feet.

Everyone was already crying as she turned to face them. Her eyes welled up in response. "I have not known a day without you all these last few years," she told them. "And I never thought the moment would come when I must leave. At least, not like this. I wish — I wish…"

But she couldn't speak, and only shook her head with madness. Ayo stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Hal hugged him back as he squeezed her tightly. Then he moved to hug Murtagh as Eli stepped forward, then Cado, then Sam. Amon was last, holding Layla in his arms. Hal kissed the girl one last time. "Take care of Nani for me, okay?"

Layla was crying, but nodded resolutely. Amon leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Hal. His beard tickled her cheek as he kissed it. He hugged Murtagh, and kissed his cheek as well. "You three look out for each other."

"We will."

"We promise."

Thorn snorted, billowing a cloud of smoke.

"And when you have done what you have set out to do, you come home, you hear me? You. Come. Home."

Murtagh was crying quietly and only nodded his head. Amon stepped back, wiping his face as Murtagh climbed onto Thorn. Hal gave a final bow to Blödhgarm and Invidia. " _Until we meet again, Halen Zarasdaughter_ ," Invidia said with a slight bow of her head and a kind smile.

Hal turned to find Murtagh's outstretched hand waiting for her. She took it, sturdy and warm in hers. He heaved her up like she weighed nothing, situating her in front once again. Hal looked over her shoulder as her friends stepped back to give Thorn space. She felt her eyes well with tears as everyone raised their fists and bumped their chest twice.

"I love you!" she shouted as Thorn's wings unfurled. "We love you all and we will think of you every day until we return!"

They smiled through their tears, waving, as Layla squirmed out of her father's arms. As Thorn rose higher in the sky, Layla, laughing through her tears, waved at them. "Bye Captain! Bye Murtagh! Bye Thorn! I'll miss you! I love you!"

As Thorn continued to rise, Layla gave chase to his shadow. Soon, they were high enough that not even Hal could hear. But she knew Layla was still waving goodbye, still shouting. And Murtagh and Hal both waved and shouted back as loudly as they could. Soon, Hal could not see any of them, and her village soon disappeared amongst the early morning clouds. The treetops passed by quickly overhead as Thorn began to pick up speed.

She felt Murtagh's lips on her neck as she cried. But for the first time, she did not weep out of despair. She would see them again. She would make sure of it. They would return home, all three of them.

She was sure of it.

 _Perhaps then, we both can go to Nowhere. Together. How does that sound?_

She could feel Murtagh's tears on her skin as he kissed her neck and shoulder, his own heartache a mirror of her own. She reached back, sliding her fingers through his hair.

Soon Illium was behind them, and Hal and Murtagh looked back at the island. Hal sniffed at the sight, as their home grew smaller in the distance. The sun was blazing overhead, the wind fierce against her skin. Her heart ached at the sight.

No. This was not goodbye. As Thorn soared overhead, Hal closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to forget everything. She focused instead on the sensation of going against the wind, the sun on her skin. It was like being kissed by the heavens.

She reached out to touch Murtagh's mind, and Thorn's. Through the bond, she felt their pain and heartache, their doubt and their fears. She also felt their love and devotion, how strong it resonated between the three of them. It was surefire and unwavering, confident and sturdy. She would not wish for anyone else by her side during such times. And she was grateful for their companionship and support. She could not have done this without them.

Hal breathed at the warmth and love she felt in response to her thoughts. And she allowed her shattered heart and weary mind to focus on this sacred bond. Because not out loud, certainly not even to herself, could Hal admit that, already, each second felt like a countdown. To what exactly, she could not be sure. All she did know that she felt like she was living on borrowed time, and she could not afford to waste a second.

Somewhere not even she knew, her future awaited her. Thea waited for her. And when the time came to face them both, Hal prayed she was strong enough to survive.

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 **A/N: Hello! I wanted to quickly say that, obviously, this is not the end of Hal and Murtagh's story. But I thought it best to stop here and give myself an opportunity to breathe (phew!) so that I can devote all of my attention to part II! I'm very excited to share with you all what our characters have been up to, while they also begin to meet a few familiar faces from the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **I do want to say thank you, to everyone who has read, reviewed, and followed this story. Your support has meant a lot and I have enjoyed engaging with a few of you and reading your theories/comments. And I hope you will join me for the finale, slated for January 2020.**

 **Until then - _may your swords stay sharp!_ (And if any of you are doing NaNoWriMo - good luck!)**

 **\- A**


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